#to have finished a chunk of the processing papers

[andromedasummer]

first day of work complete!!!!

[alexiroflife]

‘don’t ignore me’

“Across the Earth” Part 1: satoru gojo x reader

part 2 | part 3

Synopsis: you travel to NYC for spring break completely oblivious of satoru’s plan to follow you there

to sum it up: satoru does not take being avoided by you very well

WC: 12,731

The late afternoon glow of the setting sun milks the empty classroom through the row of glass windows touching the floor up to the ceiling. Most classes for the day have ended, and students scatter about the campus in search of food, study spaces, and each other’s company. It is no later than five pm, two days out from the university's suspension for spring break. 

The chaotic atmosphere of the large campus is finally subsiding after a month’s long hectic craze of last minute assessments and projects as people prepare for their much needed vacation from strenuous academics.  

Satoru Gojo and his best friends lounge peacefully inside their empty philosophy classroom, soaking in the rich rays of orange sun. A comfortable silence has settled over the group as Suguru works to finish an essay and Shoko toys with her lighter, flicking it open and closed repeatedly as she watches the small flame ignite and dwindle in her palm. 

Satoru, oddly quiet, has been tapping away at his phone, hunched over the back of a chair so that he is facing his friends who sit properly before him at desks. The three pay each other no mind, wrapped into their own dazes, when Satoru breaks the stillness and thrusts his phone into their faces.

The two stop, snapping up from their trances instantly, the glow of Satoru’s phone screen disrupting their concentration. Satoru says nothing, waving his phone back and forth tauntingly in order to keep their, what he assumes will be, short-lived attention.

They lean forward to examine what the device has to display and scrunch their noses as their eyes dart over words and pictures that stand out to them in clarification of what Satoru has done. 

Email confirmation. Seven day stay. Hamptons, New York, USA. 

Suguru looks up first, confusion and distrust swimming in his hazel eyes. Shoko puts her lighter down and takes Satoru’s phone from his hand gently next to peer down at the images of the extravagant, luxurious villa plastered all over Satoru’s phone with her own eyes. 

Satoru taps the back of his chair eagerly, eyes swapping between the brunette and the ravenette with an enthusiastic smile. “So? What do you think? You guys excited or what?”

Suguru crosses his arms atop his desk, leaning forward with eyes slim with suspicion as he tries to process what he has just seen. He places his pencil down next to his unfinished paper with the understanding that inquiring about whatever his best friend is planning will take a good chunk of time out of his work hour.

 “Satoru…” he begins tiredly, searching the snowy haired man’s jubilant expression for whatever true intentions lay beneath it, for there was always a reason why Satoru did the things he did. This applied especially to when his scheming led to greater absurdity, his actions as loud and ridiculous as the reasons he executed them. “Why did you rent out a villa in the Hamptons?”

Satoru shrugs. “The real question here, Suguru, is why not?” 

Shoko swipes her finger over the plethora of pictures Satoru’s email confirmation has to offer, brows jumping with subtle interest with each snapshot. “You want to go… to America?” she poses softly in a mumble, eyes glued to the phone.

“Ah, no. Correction: we are going to America! As a group!” Satoru exclaimed, leaning back with outstretched arms. “For spring break! Aren’t you guys excited?” 

Shoko finally looks up again, meeting Satoru’s eyes blankly, while Suguru rubs his forehead in exasperation. “And why would we be doing that?” 

“Well, because the first class round trip tickets are booked, and so is our stay, which you’re looking at right now,” the blue eyed man explains as though telling his friends two days before break that he paid for their expenses to travel across the world is completely justified and, far worse, normal. He leans over to point at the dates listed below the email confirmation on his phone, guiding his friends’ eyes to his finger. “See? Our stay starts Saturday, so we have to leave tomorrow.”

Suguru’s lips part in shock, eyes widening. “Wh- tomorrow?”

“It’s a twelve hour flight and we’ll be jet-lagged. Gotta plan ahead.”

The black haired man thinks he can just about wring out Satoru’s neck when that sentence falls from his mouth, for everything he is suddenly presenting is hardly something that has been planned ahead. 

Shoko looks over to Suguru to see what he is thinking and finds the agitation mixed with sheer awe at Satoru’s audacity will likely lead into yet another argument between the two that she is forced to witness from nearby. 

“Satoru, please tell me you’re joking,” Suguru scoffs. “We can’t just up and hop on a plane to America tomorrow- we have class, and none of us are packed for a week’s trip in a completely different country,” he reasons. “And America? Why the hell would you want to go there of all places?”

“Yeah, why not the beach?” Shoko chimes in monotonously, handing over Satoru’s phone to its owner. “There’s so many other options outside of the country. Like Bali, Greece, the Bahamas-”

“Or staying home and not springing a full trip out of nowhere onto your friends a day in advance?” Suguru interjects.

Satoru takes his phone back and pouts. “The Hamptons is on a beach, you guys. Didn’t you see the pictures? Our villa is like two seconds from the water,” he says. “Besides, who’s never wanted to go to the U.S.? Don’t you think it’ll be fun?”

“No, I don’t,” Suguru deadpans. “The Hamptons is in New York, Satoru. Don’t you know what New York is like? It’s disgusting.”

“How would you know? It’s not like you’ve ever been,” Satoru pokes out his tongue. “And what you’re thinking of is New York City. Where we’re staying is two hours away,” Satoru corrects. “It’s perfect. We can spend most of our time lounging in our big house and on the beach, and whenever we feel like it, we can drive down to the city to explore! It’ll be good to get a change of pace for us to embrace tourism.”

“I’m not going into that city,” Suguru frowns, and Satoru sighs loudly.

“Don’t be so reclusive, Suguru. You may like it.”

“I won’t.”

“Have a little faith!” Satoru groans, eyes peering dramatically over the frames of his round glasses. “We’re juniors. We shouldn’t just sit around at home all break doing nothing.”

“That’s not the point, Satoru.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, you don’t like America,” Satoru waves his hand. “But you’ll get over it once you actually get there.”

“Do you think they’ll be friendly?” Shoko asks, lifting her chin in thought. It’s clear that she is already mentally preparing to indulge Satoru by going on this trip, for she had nothing better to do than to spend it away with her friends. After all, there are worse fates than shacking up in an outrageously expensive villa in the states. 

“Who, Americans or New Yorkers?” Satoru questions. “Either way, no, not at all,” he concludes, answering his own question. “But it’ll still be fun!”

Shoko shrugs, leaning back into her chair and propping her feet atop her desk. “As long as there’s water and food, I’m set.”

Satoru grins. “See? Look at that, Suguru, Shoko’s on board. So stop complaining and just go with the flow.”

Suguru clenches his jaw, astonished by the things he is hearing. He does not understand it. Not one bit. Satoru, though constantly flaunting his privilege to travel around, has never expressed direct interest in going to America. While he has toyed with the idea playfully in the past, Suguru had never taken his comments seriously because, to be perfectly frank, who would?

He knows something was up by the glint in Satoru’s eyes alone. Suguru knows his best friend very well, like the back of his hand, and knows entirely too well when there is an alternate angle to his seemingly random madness. After all, Suguru always found himself directly in the center of his spontaneous proposals. 

Therefore, when Suguru’s glare on Satoru hardens as if he is trying to physically see past his thick skull and into his mind’s contents, and Satoru stares back with a frozen smile, he knows that his gut instinct is correct. “What are you up to?” the hazel eyed man asks, furrowing his brows. 

Satoru’s smile stretches but does not quite reach his eyes. “I’m not sure I understand what you’re asking,” he replies coolly. “I simply want to treat my friends to a nice vacation. Is that so hard to believe?”

“Yes, it is.”

The albino slumps, rolling his chin over the rim of his seat grumpily. “You think so little of me, Suguru.”

“If it makes you feel better, I wouldn’t if I didn’t know you so well.”

Satoru’s bottom lip juts out and brows angle as he ponders the comment. “I’m not sure I know how to respond to that one.”

“Just cut the bullshit, okay?” Geto shifts in his seat, raising a brow at his sulking buffoon of a friend. “You’ve always got a reason for doing something, and this is no exception. So spill.”

Gojo’s eyes wander beneath his dim lenses, bouncing over every object of the room as his playfulness diminishes with Suguru’s accusation. “God, when did you get that stick shoved up your ass?”

“Since I’m twenty-one with a future career to think about. And so are you,” Suguru bites. “Stop stalling. Out with it.”

Satoru exhales again, closing his eyes. “I don’t know what to tell you. I hate to disappoint, but I’m only doing this out of the kindness of my heart and my hunger for exploration. You should be ashamed, throwing around these accusations and insinuating that there’s something more I want other than to have a once in a lifetime experience with the people I hold dearest to my heart-”

“You think, maybe, this has something to do with (Y/n) mentioning that she was going to New York for spring break the other day?” Shoko jumps in, her words droning on as if she were bored and her attention now elsewhere on her own phone, but her presented notion striking realization and dismay in the boys beside her.

Suguru’s eye twitches as everything pieces together in his mind. It was you. How hadn’t he understood sooner?

Satoru had taken a particular interest in you ever since freshman year orientation. 

While he, Shoko, and Suguru entered university having known each other all throughout high school, you were the new addition into their lives that Satoru had been rather insistent upon acquiring. 

It started with the freshman presentation in the auditorium. You happened to sit next to Suguru at the end of the row while Satoru sat on his other side and Shoko on his. You caught the blue eyed man’s eye immediately without even having to speak. But when you did, it was not to him but to Geto, leaning over and asking quietly if he knew where one of the dorm rooms was located, for you had yet to adjust to the size of the campus.

Satoru watched intensely out of the corner of his eye as Geto explained to you that he lived in the same building and would gladly show you around after the presentation. You thanked him kindly, a sweet smile rising to your face to match the charm in your light tone. Satoru nudged his friend harshly in the side when you turned away, ignoring the glare he tossed into his direction and leaning to whisper that he thought you were hot. 

Geto was quick to shove him away and hiss a warning, for he didn’t want Satoru scaring you off just after he made your acquaintance. Nevertheless, Satoru was determined from then on to learn who you were. And learned, he had.

You were attending University to study art and history, your hometown about five hours away from the campus by car. You were an only child, but came from an incredibly academically pressured environment. You were an honors student, here on scholarship, and you were so very talented. Your parents had wanted you to pursue something more practical, something that would show for the hours of mathematics and science practices that had been forced onto you while you were in high school, but the strenuous impact of high expectations and terribly little breathing room had pushed you into a different direction. 

You adored learning. You had a skill for it. You liked understanding the lens through which history has been told, how artists have come to detail the past, how history takes a hand in not only your daily society but the way in which daily society remembers it through art. You wanted to travel, to create, to fill your head with knowledge of past and present worlds, and though you could have been anything, this school and this path was what you chose. 

Your parents, of course, had not approved, so you were forced to work for your position at the university because they refused to fund you financially. You applied to numerous scholarship applications until you were accepted by over three, wrote hundreds of drafted college essays that eventually crafted your best piece of writing yet, and worked two jobs during school and the summer whilst simultaneously maintaining straight As. You worked damn hard, and all of that work had led you to where you were today.

You had only mentioned about a quarter of that information to the friend group as they led you to the co-ed dorms that they coincidentally all resided in and asked you questions to get to know you, but Satoru had learned the rest over the months and years. 

Despite Suguru’s warning for Satoru to back off, he did just the opposite and crowded your space as the four of you walked to the dorms after orientation. He was chatty, buzzing with an aura of privilege that you just could not seem to acclimate yourself to, at least not at first. Even so, Satoru was quick to welcome you into the group, inviting you to lunches and over to his shared room with Suguru within the span of barely two days. You were overwhelmed, to say the least, but grateful to have made friends so quickly. 

Satoru found himself intruding into your life just as he did with anyone else. No matter where you went, he had always found a way to turn up unexpectedly. Sometimes, he was alone, and other times, he was with Suguru or Shoko or both. 

As time went by, Satoru knew that he had gotten on your nerves the more comfortable you became. Gojo had blinked, and you went from a timid, kind stranger to the loud, bubbly, brazen woman you are today, who told him to leave you alone when you were trying to study and he was buzzing around your room like a nagging fly, and man, did he adore it. He adored your attention, whether it was positive or negative. He adored how your reactions to his lack of personal space proved that you were acutely aware of his presence, of his space, of his body near yours. He adored how, though you considered yourself to be friends with all three of them, he remained the only one that you would constantly bicker back and forth with when he did something to agitate you. 

He adored everything about his interactions with you, for half the time they were the only thing motivating him to trudge out of bed and take on the day.

You, on the other hand, had very different opinions of Satoru Gojo. The first time he spoke to you, he reeked of privilege and presented himself as a position in such subconsciously. He was the stark opposite of you, having been handed a place in school, a legacy, an estate, and money that could last him, his children, his children’s children, and so on, for centuries to come. He was in a clear position of power, holding his head high and strutting about campus as if he owned the place. 

Your first impression of him was that he was an arrogant, pompous brat.

As you got to know him, Suguru, and Shoko better, however, your disinterest in him faltered and you truly did begin to view him as a friend and as someone you loved spending time with. Though he was still spoiled as all hell, he was funny, he was intelligent, he was smart, and he was hardworking when he wanted to be. He wasn’t a bad guy at all though he was preposterously clingy and bothersome, but in an endearing, playful kind of way.

Nevertheless, Satoru Gojo would always be someone who viewed himself as above you. Someone who toyed with you for fun, who said and did things solely to get a rise out of you, who flirted with practically the entire population of girls on the campus, and who found it funny when professors berated him because they were just too “uptight.” Satoru was a brat, through and through, and you knew that he’d only hover around you if it served well for his entertainment. 

This fact hadn’t bothered you before because you thought you understood the dynamic that Satoru had built with you and with many others, but when you started feeling pangs in your chest when he grinned at you or envy bubbling in your gut when another girl approached him to ask for his number, your stomach sank with fear because you knew that your feelings were shifting against your better judgment. 

Consequently, you began distancing yourself from Satoru as best as you possibly could. Your texts went from all caps to lowercase as your tone dried, you stopped by his apartment with Suguru less throughout the week, and when he tracked you down, throwing an arm around you and asking what you were doing for the night, you would tell him you were busy studying with people who didn’t exist. 

It hurt you to behave in such a way, for you could tell that Suguru and Shoko were beginning to notice not only your shift in demeanor, but Satoru’s obsessive panic over why you were talking to him less. You tried to keep your friendships with the two separate from your feelings for Gojo, but the task proved quite impossible due to how attached the three of them were to each other. No matter how far you tried to pull away subtly, Satoru was there. Everywhere. 

This is what led you to decide that a trip out of the country would do you some good. You had always wanted to go abroad and your professor had presented an opportunity to you in New York to do research with a colleague on a selection of artifacts presented in the MET gallery. You scraped up the money for a ticket and an AirBnB in SoHo, along with the generous help of your university’s study abroad funding, and set the date. You had mentioned that you were going away to Shoko a few nights ago over the phone, but were unaware that your voice was on speaker as Shoko got ready for the bar with Suguru and Satoru catching wind of your brief conversation in the background. 

Gojo must have seen the opportunity to catch up with you, and snatched it.

Suguru groans, rubbing his hands over his face as he takes it all in. The only reason Satoru is so set on this trip is because he will be hijacking yours.

Satoru rolls his eyes, sitting back up and crossing his arms stubbornly over his chest, displeased with the general reaction to Shoko’s observation. “Like it’s a crime to be in the same place as her for spring break. That could be purely coincidental,” he tsks, casting his gaze to the ceiling.

“Satoru, oh my god,” Suguru grumbles.

“What?! It’s not a big deal! We’ll be two hours away from her and we can hypothetically visit her in the city if we decide to one day.”

“Are you seriously staking this entire trip on the chance of seeing (Y/n)? Satoru, I’m pretty sure she’s not staying home for a reason.”

“Duh, because she has a research thing.”

“No- I mean, she’s trying to get some space,” he urges. “From us.”

The notion does not sit well in Satoru’s chest, so he decides to ignore it. “Impossible. She loves us.”

“I don’t doubt that, but I also can tell that she’s been distant and wants a break. A break… far away,” Suguru emphasizes the last few words with earnest. “Come on, you had to have noticed too.”

Had he noticed? 

It’s all Satoru can think about, day in and day out. He looks at your text messages, reading back over your loud responses from months ago that have resorted to short words with periods, and at times nothing at all. He wonders why you don’t visit him often anymore, why you blow him off every single time he tries to hang out, and his heart hurts at the thoughts.

He doesn’t know what he has done wrong or if he has upset you in any way. For a moment, he thought it was a mutual distance that you were putting between all three of you, but the night you had called Shoko telling her about your trip and not him really put things into perspective. You were avoiding him. Not Suguru, not Shoko, but him, and he has no way of knowing why or how he could fix it. 

He misses you, and he’s not ready for you to decide that you want nothing to do with him anymore, so he’s following you, chasing after the chance that perhaps there is something he can do to make you laugh with him, smile at him, whack the back of his head again like you used to. 

“I don���t know, Suguru… maybe it’s you she’s trying to distance herself from,” Satoru hisses through his teeth, purposely deflecting blame from him as a coping mechanism. “I mean, after all, you do get in a crabby mood after certain classes. You probably said something mean to her one day and didn’t realize.”

“Shut up, you idiot, we both know that didn’t happen,” Suguru denies confidently, for he knows exactly why you have been stepping away. 

He has seen it in your eyes when you look at Satoru, the way you unintentionally cast annoyed glances Suguru and Shoko’s way when the four of you are out and Gojo is stopped by an enamored pretty girl, looking to drag him home with her. 

He sees the love all too well, in the both of you. He and Shoko both do, but they can not for the life of them understand how the two of you have been so blind to it. If you had opened your eyes for one second to see the reason why Satoru would wake up every morning to text you random, insignificant thoughts or followed you around like a lost puppy, you wouldn’t have been distancing yourself the way you are now. 

Nevertheless, Suguru supposes he understands. Satoru can be a lot to handle, and when you are trying to look up at him from the bottom of the pedestal that the world has placed him upon, it is terribly difficult to meet him eye level and see the truth in his gaze. 

“You need to be honest with yourself,” the black haired man proceeds. “And you can’t just intrude on (Y/n)’s privacy because you want to. It’s not fair to her.”

“What do you know about what she wants,” Satoru mumbles bitterly under his breath, turning to look outside the window in hopes of the scenery outdoors drifting him away from this enclosed conversation. 

Suguru shakes his head to himself, watching as Suguru pouts. “She’s not just your friend. She’s a friend to all of us,” he says, voice growing softer as he knows this is a sensitive topic. “Yes, it’s sad that we don’t see her as much anymore, but you have to respect her wishes. We shouldn’t go on this trip. Not if it’s to see her.”

Satoru is stubborn. Incredibly stubborn. He was raised receiving everything he asked for and more, therefore, he did not understand the concept of not doing something if he wanted to do it. And of course, when it comes to you, Satoru is willing to challenge all barriers in order to get to you. 

So he shakes his head in retort and allows a smile to return to his face. “Even if I were bringing us to America for her, which I’m not, the trip is already fully booked and paid for,” he grins, and Suguru feels the color drain from his face. Shoko chuckles quietly to herself in amusement, all too familiar with the shenanigans that Satoru pulls. Only she finds it far funnier and less agitating than Suguru. “So either way, we’re going. No ifs, ands, or buts. And as a matter of fact, I'm feeling extra touristy this year. I say we hit the MET while we’re in New York too. You know what they say… when in Rome,” Satoru nods, entirely too satisfied with himself. 

Suguru pinches the bridge of his nose, reluctantly accepting his fate. “I hate you.”

“Tell me about it,” the white haired man smirks.

“Even so,” Suguru starts, picking up his pencil once more in a half-attempt to conclude his closing paragraph. “We still have class tomorrow. Don’t we, Shoko?”

The said brunette hums. “True, but we’re not really going, are we? It’s the last day before break. No one will be there.”

Satoru stands abruptly, rekindled pride bursting in his chest. “Exactly. You’re gonna have to skip class just this once, Suguru. We’ve got a flight to catch,” he grins and Suguru grips his pencil so hard it almost snaps.

_______________________________

You huff as you slam your suitcase onto the hard floor of your temporary residence for the next week. The door shuts gently behind you, and you are finally gifted your first moments of isolated peace within your room. You step around your bag, exploring the space excitedly. You’re exhausted from your flight, more exhausted than you believed a person could be, but the spark of thrill buzzing in your body from making it overseas after a long journey is fresh in your mind. 

The space is far bigger than you thought after having been told of horror stories about New York’s cramped style of living. You have a cute kitchen that connects directly to your living space, which leads to a small balcony that overlooks the bustling streets and crowded stores of SoHo, New York. You see the corner that rounds to your bedroom and bathroom with a full shower, but rush to the balcony first. You throw the door open and step out, the muffled sounds of the city instantly hitting your ears with crisp clarity. You are seven floors up, looking down with wide eyes and a large smile, taking in the smoggy air and rows of brick buildings. You think to yourself that it is absolutely perfect. 

And what is best of all is that there is no Satoru in sight, no reminder of the heavy weight that weighs on your chest each time he is near, no image of his perfect face and haunting blue eyes, or that messy hair white as a cloud, or those glossy lips that always curl into a sinister smile. 

No, none of that here. You are free of him, of this burden of love for the next week, and you feel you can finally breathe. 

You settle in, unpacking your things and tucking your clothes away in the drawers, claiming the sunlit space as your own. You have a meeting early tomorrow morning with your professor’s research colleague at Central Park before heading into the museum, so you figure you could take the rest of the day to grab some food and rest, far too tired to explore a good chunk of the city due to the flight.

You go to sleep peacefully that night, the view of the city and busy noise surprisingly calming you into your slumber. Unbeknownst to you, however, while you drift off into a dreamless sleep, Suguru, Satoru, and Shoko are lugging their bags through the East Hampton airport.

-

You’re up bright and early the next morning. The first thing you do is check your phone subconsciously for messages from Satoru before recalling that your once steady text communication had come to a slow halt because of you, and that you two are in separate parts of the world. You pause, heart panging suddenly at the thought of Satoru, before shaking your head and pushing the thoughts away. This trip is not for you to sit around and think about that moron. You have work to do, sights to see, research to accomplish- and a meeting in an hour.

You rush out of your AirBnB after a half an hour, waving your hand aggressively on the sidewalk to hail your first cab. One eventually comes along after three have passed, and you set your destination for the South Side of Central Park. You dig into the cash fare you set aside specifically for cab rides and step out into the path leading into the plethora of greenery and liveliness of the park upon arriving. 

You are instantly filled with childlike wonder when you catch sight of street performers, vendors, horse drawn carriages, and artists. You look around, teeth biting into your lip harshly to suppress your smile. Though it is early morning, it’s already loud and busy as people rush to work or take morning jogs down the street.

Your phone rings before you can wander off to where you are not supposed to be, and you see the name of the colleague you are supposed to meet pop up. You quickly answer and trek off into the park, following his directions and finding him sitting at a bench atop a large rock. 

He is much younger than you expected when you approach him. He may be a few years older than you are now, stubble shading his face and brown hair cut short. You smile when he catches your eye, and he’s standing, reaching out to shake your hand with a warm grin. 

The two of you talk about your education, your experience with art history, and the goal of the research you would be helping him accomplish for your professor back at home. The two of you walk and talk as you head to the east side of the park to reach the MET gallery. 

He, who you learn to be named Aoto, is a grad student in his mid twenties attending a school in the city, an alum to your current college. Aoto is helping your art history professor collect data on how certain artifacts on display in the MET gallery have been discovered and acquired over the years, and to categorize them by culture and country of origin. Your job is to assist by essentially organizing the data and taking note of his findings by following him around galleries, lectures, and meetings, and you can not be more excited to start.

You then ask the dark haired man about his experience in the city, curious to know what New York is like from an insider’s perspective. He almost laughs and tells you that living there has changed his life for the better. He admits that it takes some getting used to at first, but once you have spent enough time here, there’s no going back. New York is a melding pot, he tells you, where anyone can work toward anything. It is a tough city to attempt to conquer, but it rewards you with so many connections and experiences that you can not find anywhere else. 

You take his words to heart, already admittedly inspired by the atmosphere around you. It is nothing like home, so boisterous and hectic, but lively, eclectic, and artful. It intrigues you.

You're snapping pictures left and right when you reach the MET, a wide, tan building with large banners cascading over the walls, advertising wonderful areas of exploration and collections within the museum. Aoto, far more casual than your professor had led on, chuckles at your excitement and offers to take pictures of you in front of the building with your camera. The two of you are standing on the steps of the museum for at least fifteen minutes, distracted by capturing images on your phone, before trekking inside.

And inside, your heart bursts as this building is where you are meant to be. Ancient Greek sculptures, fragments of middle eastern fabrics, plates collected from the Byzantine Era, works capturing prominent artists of the Harlem Renaissance, and more captivate your eyes, your heart, and your mind; the museum is a melding pot of history, new worlds different from the last lurking around each corner. You jump between signs, unsure of where to go next as you take it all in. 

Today, Aoto spends by giving you a tour and familiarizing you with the environment. He works there part-time with a membership and is able to give you an in-depth analysis of as many galleries as you can conquer within the few hours of time you have set for the day. 

When the tour concludes, he gives you a brief assignment to write down a list of the galleries you would be interested in focusing on for your short participation in his project as well as what you observed about certain artifacts that are on display. It isn’t much, but he wants to get your mind pumping with something before he puts you to real work throughout the rest of the week. You accept your task happily, moved by the pieces of history that you have already seen in the span of less than one day. 

For the rest of the afternoon, you find a nearby cafe and get to work, fixated completely on the works that have caught your eye in the museum. You type away the hours, jotting down observations, things that moved you, things that confused you, things you want to see. The sun is setting again before you even notice, and you get a buzz from your phone that brings you back up for air and concludes the dive into a rabbit hole that you have traveled through for a good chunk of the day. 

Aoto’s name pops up again, this time in a text. 

Dinner? I can show you a good spot near where you’re staying. We can talk work : )

You don’t see any reason for you not to accept, so you text back and agree. He sends an address instantly, and you’re packing your laptop and rushing out of the cafe to hail a taxi to head back to your place and put away your belongings before walking to your destination. 

You conclude that this is a nice change in pace from the constant harassment of Satoru as you sit across from your research partner at a bar and grill down the block from where you’re staying. It’s casual and friendly, refreshing, new. 

You talk about tomorrow's plans, your interest in the Arms and Armor gallery and the Islamic artifacts that you have analyzed earlier in the day. You also discuss your observation of missing fragments of Syrian tile or the preservation of torn carpet from centuries past. Many of the artifacts kept in the MET are still missing parts of itself that may likely never be recovered.

Once you finish discussing the day, Aoto tells you that tomorrow, you’ll be meeting up with him and a historian who will walk you through the findings of the Islamic Art collection. 

It is late when the two of you finish up. You step outside of the dim restaurant onto the sidewalk and into the cool air, facing each other to kindly bid farewell until the following day.

You smile to yourself as he walks away, heart fulfilled with the promise of a new week abundant with all the things you find joy in doing. You think to yourself that you are so very lucky to have been granted this opportunity, to travel, to learn, to experience, and that your spring break will be absolutely amazing. You grow excited even at the prospect of telling Shoko and Suguru about it when you return home.

You turn over your shoulder and prepare to walk home, eyes to the dark sky above before you lower them to look ahead…

And your face drops.

You squint, stopping dead in your tracks. Are you dreaming? Hallucinating? You must be, because there is no reality in which your eyes have caught a glimpse of that porcelain glow of silky hair in the midst of people walking by.

You scrunch your brows, a sudden aggressive sense of anxiety taking over you. Your heartbeat rises, the notion alone of seeing what you think you see makes your palms run cold with sweat and your body hot all over. No, you must be seeing things. Your mind is playing tricks on you, because there is no way in all hell that you just saw Satoru Gojo on the streets of SoHo, New York.

But then a path clears when people scatter to the sides, revealing two tall figures and a shorter  one ahead, and your jaw hangs wide open.

You have got to be fucking kidding. 

You wish someone was, that a prank is being played on you in poor taste, but your eyes have unfortunately not mistaken you. You could recognize your three friends anywhere. You watch in awe as Satoru Gojo, Suguru Geto, and Shoko Leiri saunter their way up the sidewalk into your direction. 

Satoru is looking around him with a childlike smile, flashing pictures of random people and alleys that hold no significance. He busies himself with the exaggerated pictures, looking everywhere but ahead of him, which tells you that he knows full well that you are standing nearby. 

Shoko stands behind him on his left with a cigarette propped between her lips, looking off across the street at an ice cream shop that catches her eye, and Suguru looks the most miserable of them all. Clad in dark, baggy sweats, he slumps on Satoru’s right, glaring in judgment at the people that brush by him, too close for his taste.

You don’t know what to say or do. You have half the mind to just turn around and walk off into a different direction, but Satoru’s eyes meet yours behind those damned glasses that he never took off of his face before you can even think about it 

He lowers his phone and parts his lips in feigned shock, cupping a hand over his forehead and leaning over to catch a better glimpse. He opens his arms wide upon detecting your face and his posture straightens. 

“(Y/n)! What a surprise, is that you?!”

His voice carries, turning heads as his tall form practically skips over to you and glomps you in a hug. You grunt, eyes wide and body frozen as the feeling of his body embracing yours fails to register very quickly. You stare off through wisps of white hair, tormented confusion written all over your face. Satoru is rocking your body side to side suddenly, acting as though you have not seen him in years, and for the blue eyed man, it may feel like just that. 

“It’s so good to see you!” he sings, pulling back with his large hands gripping your shoulders. You look up at him with a blank stare as he beams, pearly whites shining and fair skin tinged with a hint of pink on his cheeks. He chuckles when he looks at your expression, the bubbly sound making your head spin on your neck. “You look so shocked! Did you miss me?” he asks smugly, voice dipping lower as he leans his head in with a smirk.

You're speechless, stunned by his presence and distracted by his gut wrenching beauty. 

How the hell is he here? 

“Wh-” you stammer. “How- why are you-?”

“Why am I here?” he asks your unfinished question for you, and you nod stiffly. “Wanted to do some sight seeing for spring break, and I heard New York is great for tourists,” he grins, whipping out his phone camera once more to swiftly rush to your side and wrap an arm over your shoulders and snap a selfie of the two of you. You blink, the motion too quick for you to keep up with. Satoru steps back and looks down at his screen with a smile. “Aww, how cute! This one’s a keeper, for sure.”

A tinge of irritation captures you in the midst of your stupor when Satoru makes the picture of him smiling happily next to your ‘deer-in-headlights’ expression his new lockscreen. He’s messing with you, just as he always does, and for a moment you ponder whether this is truly a coincidence meeting him here or not. 

Suguru and Shoko slowly make their way over to the two of you. “Oh, guys! Look who I ran into,” Gojo gestures proudly to you. “Isn’t that funny?”

His friends do not look in the least bit surprised. When Suguru’s eyes swipe over you apologetically then back to Satoru with lingering annoyance, your suspicions are confirmed within seconds. “So funny,” Geto smiles tightly.

Despite his blatant displeasure in being here, Suguru is quick to mask his irritation and make his way over to you to hug you in greeting. “Sorry about this,” he murmurs to you before pulling away, and you’re reeling, overwhelmed. 

Shoko comes to you next with a soft smile, eyes lighting as she nudges your shoulder playfully. “Long time no see, huh? 

“Y-Yeah,” you stutter, flashing her a quick smile before glowering angrily up at Satoru. “What are the odds that we all find each other in America?” you hiss. 

“I know, right?” Satory shakes his head as if marveling at a joke. “The universe has a funny way of bringing us all together.”

Your eye twitches and your cheeks burn. You’re flustered, having been caught off guard by the one person you were trying your hardest to get away from. Now he’s here, after following you around in your heart, mind, and back home on campus, he has followed you overseas into another continent. 

You can’t escape him.

“So what are you up to? It’s dangerous to walk out here at night alone,” he says.

God, he is so insufferable. The very sound of his voice makes you want to slap him across the face in hopes that it will buffer whatever simulation you have been plopped into that has forced you to face Satoru Gojo of all people.

“Have you started your research yet?” Shoko inquires.

“Um… yeah, I got started with some stuff today. I actually just finished meeting with my research partner…”

“Oh, you were with someone then?” Satoru asks, pretending not to care. You can tell simply by the way he shoves his hands into his pockets and lifts his brows as though clueless. One thing you have learned about Satoru over the years is that his vision is eerily impressive and he observes things from miles away. In fact, he brags about his keen observational skills all the time, therefore, if he was able to see you from afar, he would have been able to see Aoto bid you farewell and walk away too.

“She just said she was with her research partner, Satoru,” Suguru adds, voice monotone. 

“I know, but I didn’t see any woman near (Y/n) before I saw her.”

You clench your jaw. “It’s a he,” you clarify flatly, eyes sharp on his face.

He nods slowly. “Ohhh, really now?” he hums, and you fight the urge to strangle him. “That’s interesting. Cool, good for you.”

“I’m sorry- what- I mean, how are you guys even here?” you change the subject to get clarification. “I didn’t think any of you were traveling for break. Shoko, you just told me the other night that you would be home.”

You don’t miss the exhale that Suguru breathes and the way Shoko’s eyes dart instantly to Gojo. “That’s a great question,” Suguru says. “Why don’t you ask Satoru? He’s the one who wanted to travel so bad.”

Satoru looks over at his best friend out of the corner of his eye, eyes hard as if warning him not to give him away. 

“Is that so?”

“You know me, (Y/n),” he turns to you giddily. “I love to go outside the box.”

“Clearly,” you bite, and he only grins that same stupid grin. You understand now. It was all his idea, as always. “So then, where are you guys staying? Here in the city?”

“Actually, no,” Suguru grumbles.

“Satoru’s rented a place up in the Hamptons.”

“The Hamptons?” you reel at Shoko’s revelation. “That’s a two hour drive from here!”

“We know,” she and Suguru say in unison, and you look at Satoru accusingly.

“Why would you make that drive at this time of night?”

The white haired man rolls his eyes. “As if it’s so crazy to want to rent a car to drive down to the city.”

“On our first full day on vacation, yes. It is,” Suguru says.

“Well, I wanted to see Times Square.”

“Times Square is on the other side of the city.”

“Okay, and? We can’t make detours along the way?” Satoru argues sassily. “Plus, my decision to make a detour and stop in the closest neighborhood led us to our friend! You guys should really be thanking me for reuniting us all like this.”

You almost wish you can’t believe this, but sadly, you do. 

Satoru Gojo is the only person you know who has not only the means, but the funds, and the audacity to book a last minute trip to New York solely to disrupt your peace. You can tell by Suguru’s face that he is not keen on spending time in the city, for he had always told you about his pet peeve of large crowded areas with unsanitary conditions. New York is the last place he would want to be, and the only reason he would even find himself here is if his nuisance of a best friend forced him to be. 

While Shoko does not look bothered to be in the city at all, you know her very well. Shoko is low maintenance, but she likes to relax, to unwind, and she most likely much prefers the Hamptons and the beach over an impromptu drive into a city with no water or signs of relaxation.

And then there was Satoru, arrogant, hardly ever serious, and all too pleased with himself. He knows exactly what he is doing, showing up in the same part of the city you told your brown haired friend you would be residing in for the entirety of your stay. The pictures you have posted on social media hours ago likely led Satoru to this very spot, where he stands with an air of satisfaction and delight around him. 

You witness the way girls’ eyes linger as they walk by, his presence giving off that of a model’s. He clearly is not native to the city, for you all stand out like a sore thumb, but Satoru specifically gives off a vibe of untouchable refinement and value that not many have seen before. 

You hate him, how much attention he gets anywhere he goes, how he is so painfully aware of it. You hate how smug he looks, how pleased he appears to be in your presence after having shown up so unexpected. You hate him and those captivating round eyes complemented by snowy lashes glimpsing over round frames. You hate his irritating smile that prods into subtle indents of dimples in his lower chin and the stretch of pink lips that you catch yourself ogling at during the worst of times. You hate the way he dresses so well, how he stands confidently adorned in a loose, linen shirt and jeans, and how his clothing smells of him hand in hand with his intoxicating cologne.

You hate him. You hate him so much. You hate how he won’t leave you alone, not even for a second, not even when you think you’re safe. He returns to haunt you, to flaunt himself all around you with no regard for how he makes you feel. He’s a brat. A spoiled, self-concerned, childish brat who you love with all of your being and you hate him. 

“Since we’re all here,” Satoru begins slyly, interrupting your train of thought with a shrug. “Why don’t you show us where you’re staying, (Y/n)? For old time’s sake.”

You try to regulate your breathing before you actually find yourself punching the white haired bastard beside you in the face. First, he springs himself onto you in the middle of the street, and now, he’s asking to intrude on your space. What gives him the right?

“I don’t think (Y/n) would want us marching into her space like that,” Suguru says pensively, doing his best not to further agitate you. He must have already seen the look on your face and determined that it is time for him to drag Satoru away from you and give you some breathing room. “After all, you’re working here, aren’t you (Y/n)? We wouldn’t want to distract you anymore than we already have.”

“Nah, (Y/n) would love to have us! Right?” Satoru speaks for you, moving behind you to cup your shoulders into his palms again.

You tense, his scent consuming you and his body heat radiating into yours. He’s so tall, you can feel his body dwarfing yours from where he stands so close. 

You want to kill him. 

“Come on,” he probes, grip on your shoulders tightening. “Just this once and we’ll be out of your hair.”

You know it's a lie the moment he speaks it into existence. Never once has Satoru come and gone so easily when you were involved. He always ensures to make a show of his pestering, sticking around you for as long as possible until he finally decides that he is happy with himself. You know that if you agree to letting him in, he won’t leave. At least, not for a long while. 

“Leave her be, Satoru,” Shoko waves at him. “She’s sick of your face already.”

“No one could be sick of my face, Shoko. It’s a work of art.”

“For real, Satoru. Let’s get out of this city already. It smells horrible,” Suguru adds.

“Hold on a minute, would you? We’re not going anywhere until we hear a yes or no from (Y/n).. Don’t be so impatient.”

Satoru happily places the spotlight onto you as your friends await a response.

Your first instinct is to tell them that it is getting late, that they should probably start heading back soon so that they are not driving past an unreasonable hour. You want to rid yourself of the thought of Gojo, of his eyes, his smile, his smell, his presence. You want to tell him off, to tell him that you want him gone, to go about your week as if nothing has happened.

You want to find the strength to do so badly, but you can’t.

As you stand there with your friends surrounding you, looking at their faces, you realize that you have missed them despite your desire to avoid Gojo for selfish reasons. You miss late night study sessions with Suguru in his apartment while you exchange laughs as well as answers for problems you were unsure about. You miss sneaking off into secluded areas of the campus to spark a flame in the dusk with Shoko, smoking until you were inebriated enough to bang on Suguru and Satoru’s door and demand food. And most of all, you miss Satoru. You miss the way he pestered you, the way he showed up outside of your classes, the way he took your phone to sneak a few pictures into your camera roll, the way he lounged on your bed and ranted to you about his father for hours while you listened as you painted your nails at your desk. 

You miss his company. You miss the way he makes you laugh. You even miss the way he makes you frown. 

You hadn’t realized before how difficult it had been to keep your distance from these people until seeing them here with you, and a wave of guilt sinks over your body. Suguru and Shoko are clearly attempting to do damage control before damage is inflicted by urging Satoru to leave you be, and them along with him, but despite your eagerness to stay away from Satoru, you find you don’t want him to leave you be. You don’t want any of them to leave you be. You miss your friends, and to turn them away now would be like rejecting them forever.

The four of you are out of the country together for the first time. You would be cruel to waste this opportunity to spend time with them after weeks of trying to step away.

So you sigh and give in, knowing that it is exactly what Satoru wants. “It wouldn’t hurt to have you guys over,” you say shyly, and Suguru and Shoko perk up. “Hell, we’re in America. Why not? I missed you guys.”

Shoko smiles, and against Suguru’s distaste for the city, he smiles tiredly with the shake of his head. He can only imagine that this trip will go into a far more chaotic direction that he had already believed. 

Satoru rejoices loudly, linking his arm around yours and yanking you to him. “Alright, (Y/n)! Lead the way!” he projects, marching forward and pulling you along with him. You stumble to catch up with his large strides.

“Alright, alright, I’m coming! Just slow down, you idiot!” you bark as he drags you past Shoko and Suguru.

The two exchange glances, sharing the same knowing look, before following suit. 

The four of you stop to grab pizza and a few beers on the way before entering your AirBnB. After Satoru familiarizes himself with the entire space, nosily peering into every nook and cranny, the four of you settle in the living room to eat with the balcony door open, allowing the spring breeze and ambiance of the city to drift into the space while you all keeled over in laughter, reminiscing over the past few years you have spent in each other’s company. Hours fly by until two empty pizza boxes sit in the middle of the floor, forgotten by your boisterousness. 

“Wait, wait, wait, hold on,” Shoko wheezes with laughter, leaning over in her seat on the sofa she shares with Geto to put out the ashes of her cigarette into the mug on that table. “What about that time Satoru got plastered and tried to scale the side of the science building?”

You and Suguru burst out cackling. You crane over your lap and Suguru throws his head back, amusement overcoming your bodies. Satoru rolls his eyes, tilting back the beer in his hand to prevent you all from seeing his smile.

 “Oh my god,” you cry. “He- He was yelling at us- for trying to tell him that the bricks- were too flat for him to grab!” 

“And then he made it up like five inches before falling flat on his ass!”

The three of you howl at the memory, stomachs aching from how hard you are laughing. “And his face after,” Suguru adds, swiping his hand over his face. “He was pissed at us like we did something wrong.”

“Because it was your lack of faith that fucked up my concentration,” Satoru butts in after lowering the bottle from his lips, thumb smoothing away drops of alcohol from his mouth. “I bet you I can climb that old ass building now. I know what to expect this time. I’ll be prepared.” 

“Sure, and you’ll break a hip this time around too.”

Satoru flips Suguru off from across the room, to which the dark haired man smiles with feigned politeness. 

“God, we used to get drunk like every weekend,” you say, placing your empty bottle on the floor next to the pizza boxes. You sit sprawled out between the couch and the chair that Satoru occupies, legs crossed before you. “How the hell did we get anything done?”

“Beats me,” Shoko chuckles, cooling down from her fit of giggles. “I don’t think I went to one class sober back in freshman year.”

“That sounds to me like you have a problem,” Satoru smirks.

“And you don’t? You’re a lightweight who actively chooses to get wrecked off three shots then makes it everyone else’s problem.”

“Wouldn’t me being a lightweight mean I’m less addicted?” he leans over his spread legs, sitting his elbows on his knees as he cradles his beer in his large palms. 

“No, it means you’re worse than any of us,” you tease, looking over to find Satoru’s eyes already on you.

He raises a brow. “Oh yeah? What about you, miss ‘emotional drunk?’”

You can hear Suguru snort, and you’re whipping your head between the two, offended. “Shut up! I don’t get that emotional.”

“(Y/n), you are so sappy when you’re drunk,” Suguru snickers. “One minute you’re taking a shot, the next you’re crying about how much you appreciate our friendship.”

Your face goes red. “I do not!” you deny.

“Oh, yes you do,” Shoko agrees.

“‘You guys, I just don’t know what I’d do without you!’” Satoru imitates your voice by scaling his own up a pitch, pressing a hand to his chest to encapsulate a touched emotion. “‘You all make me so happy! I love you all so much!’”

“Shut up!” you demand, fighting a laugh as Shoko and Suguru stifle their own. 

“‘Satoru, I know I’m mean to you all the time, but I don’t mean it! I love having you around! You make me smile!’” he sighs dreamily, batting his eyelashes, and your friends are laughing loudly again.

You crawl over to where Satoru sits and slap his shin hard, to which he looks down at you and grins snarkily. “Ow.”

“I do not sound like that,” you argue.

“Sure you do. I should know, I'm the one you always ended up babbling to.”

“Liar,” you groan.

“Whatever you say,” Satoru taps your nose lightly with his finger and you quickly swat his hand away.

“Oh! Suguru, do you remember that time (Y/n) cried over your hair?” Shoko brings up. 

It’s their turn to make fun of you now as you cross your arms stubbornly and listen. 

“She told me that she was crying because she was happy for me that my hair is so long,” the hazel eyed man recalls. 

“I mean, who wouldn’t?” Satoru chimes in. “Suguru was blessed with such beautiful, luscious hair, who wouldn’t cry over it? Isn’t that right, (Y/n)?” 

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up,” you murmur. “At least I’m kind when I’m drunk.”

All eyes immediately turn to Suguru, and he freezes, laughter dying in his throat. “What?”

“You’re a fucking asshole when you’re drunk, Sugu, that’s what,” Shoko says. 

“Oh please, I’m not that bad.” 

“Tell that to those girls you made cry at the bar last year.”

Suguru grunts, pursing his lips in embarrassment. “I told them I was sorry.”

“Doesn’t make you any less of a monster off vodka,” Satoru says, and Geto throws an arm pillow at the blue eyed man’s face. 

You smile to yourself, leaning back on your hands and looking out the window at the city lights. “This is nice,” you say aloud.

Suguru and Shoko hum in agreement while Satoru stands to his feet after putting his bottle on the floor. “Isn’t it?” he announces loudly in content. “Aren’t you glad you ran into us and invited us here?”

“You invited yourself here,” you correct with a roll of your eyes. “But yes, Satoru. Yes I am.”

“We’ve missed spending time with you, (Y/n),” Shoko says. “You left me alone to deal with these two idiots and all they do is fight.”

“Because Satoru doesn’t take anything seriously,” Geto adds.

“It’s only ‘cause I love ya, Suguru.”

“Shut the hell up.”

You chuckle, bringing your knees to your chest. You glance at your phone beside you and see that the time reads 1:34 am. You cringe, unsure of where the hell the time went. “Damn, it’s late,” you say.

Suguru glances at his own phone and his brows jump. “Oh shit, yeah,” he observes. “Sorry, (Y/n). Didn’t mean to take up your entire night.”

“No, no. It's fine, I’m actually really glad you did.”

Shoko stands, stretching her arms behind her back with a sigh. “So, we hittin’ the road or what?” 

You can feel Satoru’s eyes on you in an instant, and you already know what he is going to suggest before he even opens his mouth to ask. You curse yourself internally because you know that you will regret proposing what you are about to propose, but you can’t bring yourself to watch your friends head out so late and drive two hours out to where they are staying.

Once again, Satoru’s decisions have become your problem. 

“Why don’t you guys just sleep over here for the night?” you suggest.

“...Are you sure?” Suguru questions. “I’m sure you’re busy tomorrow… and you’ve only been here one night.”

“It’s not a big deal. I meet with Aoto at ten tomorrow, so I’ll have plenty of time to get ready and see you guys off. Please, I wouldn’t forgive myself if I let Satoru drive you all back this late.”

“Aoto?”

“My research partner.”

“Ah,” Suguru nods, eyes flickering up swiftly to Satoru’s face before landing back on yours. “Well, if it’s not any trouble for you, we’d appreciate it.”

“Not at all. The four of us have had hundreds of sleepovers, this isn’t any different.”

“Alright, then. Thanks.”

The moment you stand up, Satoru is leaning himself against you, resting his heavy head on yours and squishing against your cheek. “You take such good care of us,” he coos, giggling when you try to push him away but struggle under his weight.

“Satoru, get off!”

The next twenty minutes fly as you spend them setting up the pullout in the living room (that you have only just discovered) and moving the coffee table to lay extra blankets and pillows next to the pullout. Suguru and Shoko take the bed while Satoru teases you about letting him sleep in the bed with you. You tell him to fuck off and he winks. 

Suguru and Shoko pass out within minutes, likely exhausted from Satoru pulling them along with him all day. You see Satoru setting himself up on the floor, taking off his glasses and setting them aside, when you sneak past quietly to step out onto the balcony.

You aren’t tired. Your mind is racing and your nerves are jumping with their awareness of Satoru sitting in your living room. You exhale softly, leaning over the railing and looking down at the still busy streets, watching taxis round corners aggressively and pedestrians chat loudly. You close your eyes, setting your arms on the rail and your cheek atop them, listening to the sounds and savoring the feeling of the cool night breeze against your flustered skin.

You soak in at least five minutes of silence before you hear feet padding behind you and the door opens and closes again. You lift your head and turn to find Satoru joining you. He walks up quietly and stands beside you, peering over the ledge in the same fashion you had as you avert your gaze. 

He does not say much, shockingly. Sleepiness is finally catching up to him as he looks down lazily, peacefully, unshaded blue eyes glossy beneath his long lashes. The soft distant lights of the street lamps illuminate his face with a dim glow while he hunches over, watching calmly. 

It is quiet between the two of you for a moment before he’s talking, a deep voice sending chills down your spine. “Do you like it here so far?” he asks softly, voice low.

You nod, pursing your lips and keeping your gaze down. “Yeah, it’s nice,” you tell him gently. “Really different from home, but nice. I like it.”

“I can see the appeal,” he agrees. “It’s busy like Tokyo.”

“Yeah, it is,” you nod. “I don’t think it’s Suguru’s style.”

A huff of amusement breathlessly leaves Satoru’s lips, the corners of his mouth curling. “It definitely isn’t. I had to practically drag him out of his room to get him to come with.”

“You know Suguru. He’s picky.”

“Very.”

“Shoko seems to be cool with the city though.”

“Mhm. There’s not much she doesn’t adapt to.”

“That’s true…” you mumble as a lull in the conversation arises. “...Satoru, why are you-“

“So what’s your research partner like?” he interjects, turning to look at you now. You furrow your brows, meeting his eyes when you face him. His face is serene, still, yet his eyes tell a different story. They’re alive with an eagerness for his question to be answered, a curiosity, a hint of frustration. You grow confused.

“…Why?”

He tilts his head. “I can’t ask about the person my friend is working with?”

“I- no, it’s just an abrupt question.”

“I don’t think it is,” he disagrees. “What’s his name again? Ayano?”

“Aoto,” you correct sharply.

“Right. So? How is he?”

His eyes don’t waver, and you pucker your lips with befuddlement. “I mean, he’s nice. I only just met him today, but I like him so far.”

“Yeah?” he says. “You must. I mean, you just met him and he’s already taking you to dinner.”

“…For work, Satoru. Dinner for work,” you say firmly, put off by his comment. “And he was being nice because I’ve never been in the city before.”

He nods and hums nonchalantly. “That makes sense,” he says, though you doubt he’s very understanding.

“Is there something wrong?”

“No, of course not,” he answered quickly. “It’s just, we haven’t talked in so long and you’re already…”

You leaned over on your elbow and turned to face him fully. “Already what?”

He smiles to himself and lowers his head, picking at his fingernails. “I don’t know,” he mumbles. “It’s just been weird, that’s all. I had to find you in America to get you to talk to me.”

A still silence settles in the air again as you stare at him, attempting to comprehend what is going through his mind. “Satoru,” you begin, and you almost think you see him jump when you say his name. “Why are you here?”

His eyes glance up ahead of him before back down at his hands over the railing. “I told you, already. For spring break.”

“You expect me to believe that of all places in the world, you chose to come to the same place that I told Shoko I was going?” you question and he only shrugs. “I’m not dumb, Satoru. You’ve always done this.”

“Done what?” his brows angle. 

“This,” you emphasize to yourself. “You always find ways to- to-“

“To what?” 

His eyes are on you again, vibrant, intense. You struggle to respond under the isolation of his gaze. “You know what I mean. It’s just what you do. You push your boundaries with people,” you say eventually. 

“Am I pushing a boundary with you by being here now?”

“I don’t know, Satoru, I just don’t think it’s a coincidence that you show up down the street from me in a completely different country.”

“But what if it is?”

“It’s not, though.”

“But if it is a coincidence, would you still be upset? Would you still be asking me why I’m here?” he questions. “Because I think you would.”

“The point here, Satoru, is that it’s not a coincidence and we both know it. That’s the only reason why I’m reacting this way.”

“So what I don’t understand, right,” Satoru starts and you can sense a tone of hostility creeping into his voice, though it remains mellow,” …is why it’s all of a sudden strange for me to want to spend time with you.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“But you’re so busy focusing on why I’m here instead of just the fact that I’m here.”

“Yeah, because I know you.”

“Do you?” 

You straighten yourself, trying to act as if his words did not sting. “What’s going on, huh? What’s the issue?”

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out, (Y/n). You stopped answering my calls and texts, you don’t hang out with me anymore, you leave the country without telling me…” he stops himself before he can go any further and turns to look down at you head on again. “Help me understand, did I do something wrong?”

You sigh and lower your gaze. “Satoru…”

“I just need to understand what happened between us. We’re friends, and all of a sudden you’re acting like we’re not. Even Suguru and Shoko see it, but you still talk to them more than you talk to me these days.”

“It’s not-“ you pause, trying to figure out what you want to say. You don’t want to talk about this right now. Not here, not with him. It’s too much for you to get into, especially so without revealing how you feel about him. “I’ve just been-“

“Busy?” he interjects, and you deflate.

“Yes, actually.”

“Okay,” he nods, ripping his eyes from you as if the sight of you temporarily blinded him. “I can handle you being busy, (Y/n), but I can’t handle being ignored. And you can’t tell me that you haven’t been doing just that.”

“I haven’t been ignoring you.”

“You’re lying.”

“No, I’m not,” you argue. “I’ve been giving myself space. It’s different.”

“But why do you need space from me? What did I do?”

“It’s nothing you did, per say, Satoru.”

“Okay, then why?” he pleads. “Why won’t you talk to me anymore? Why aren’t you happy to see me? If I haven’t done anything wrong, why have you pushed me away? If there’s nothing, then that would just mean that you chose to step away from me for no reason, and I refuse to believe that’s true.”

You can tell by the way he speaks that you have truly affected him by stepping away, affected him in a way you did not realize you had. 

You honestly didn’t think he would have cared either way if you had waned off your contact, but you were clearly very wrong. After all, like Satoru said, you’re his friend above anything else. 

He’s looking at you again, desperation swirling in his crystal irises. “So just tell me, (Y/n). Tell me what it is. What did I do? What can I do?”

You sigh, hardened exterior softening, because how could it not when he’s giving you those huge puppy dog eyes.

“If I hurt your feelings, I didn’t mean to,” you tell him. “That wasn’t why… I’m sorry.”

“I’m not trying to get you to apologize for something you knew you were doing, I just want to understand why,” he says gently. “But if you don’t want to tell me… I guess that’s fine. I can’t force it out of you. I just thought you should know that I’ve missed you.”

You feel your heart do that thing it does every time Satoru is around, and you melt slightly. “I missed you too.”

Then, he’s smiling again, as though he wasn’t just upset. Eyes bright and cheeks warm as he turns to you with a newfound warmth returning in his composure. “Did you really?” he inquires, bending over slightly and craning his neck down to you with a low lidded eyes and cheeky grin.

You scoff, pushing his head away and turning your head to the side. “Don’t push it.”

“Yes ma’am,” he teases. “But seriously though.”

He steps closer to you, eyes peering down at you with a soft gleam. You look up and stiffen as he nears further into your personal space, his hand gripping the rail as the other tucks into his pocket. 

“Don’t ignore me again,” he mutters, gaze piercing into yours. “Please.”

You stare at each other wordlessly, air bristling through your hair as an intensity swelters between you. You blink, swallowing nervously. “O-Okay. Sorry.”

He hums, a smile stretching over his face once more, and ducks down to wraps his arms tightly around your waist, hoisting you up in the air as he embraces you. You squeak, your arms grasping at his shoulder blades to steady yourself once you're off balance. “It’s okay, munchkin,” he squeezes you tightly. “I could never stay upset with you!” 

“Satoru, put me down!” you hiss, face flustering. 

He chuckles, setting you gently back down onto your feet. You put bashfully, straightening out your shirt as he looks at you sweetly. “Man, am I glad we made up. I would have done something crazy if this went on much longer.”

“Oh, you mean crazier than flying all the way to fucking New York?” you quip and he grins.

“I told you, I’m here for vacation. Not everything’s about you, you narcissist,” he says, and you can feel a vein bulging in your forehead. 

“Sure,” you grumble.

“Anyways, since we’re all already here, I think we’ll stay in the city one more day before heading back up to our place.”

You quirk a brow. “Um, you think Suguru is gonna be okay with that?”

“Not at all, but I’m the one driving, so he’ll have to be fine.”

You shake your head to yourself, laughing quietly. “He’s gonna kill you one of these days.”

“I’d like to see him try,” Satoru says, making his way over to the patio door. “Oh,” he stops and turns over his shoulder. “What’s your schedule like tomorrow?”

“Well, I told you, I have a meeting at ten.”

“Oh yeah, with Aromo.”

“Aoto.”

“Same thing,” he sighs loudly, turning his eyes up. “Whatever, either way, we should all hang when you’re done. You know, before we head back.”

“While that sounds fun, Satoru, I’m here for research. I’m not sure I'll have much free time.”

“Right, like you’ll be doing work all day,” he says sarcastically.

“...Yeah. I might be,” you repeat with a straight face. 

“Uh huh. So, we’ll see you at one?”

“Wh- Satoru, I have to check with-”

“Great! Text us and we’ll meet you wherever you are when you’re finished,” he cuts in, not even allowing the word no to hit his ears. 

“No! Satoru-”

“Good night, beautiful,” he blows a dramatic kiss, swinging the door open. He reduces his voice to a whisper, mindful of his sleeping friends on the pullout behind him. “See you in the morning~” he wiggles his fingers in a dainty wave before leaving the balcony and shutting the door behind him, plopping himself down on his makeshift bed after making his way around the couch. 

You look after him in agitation, finding yourself alone and processing what Satoru has just said to you, the way he looked at you as he begged to understand why you took steps away from your friendship, the warmth of his arms as you held you tight, the gleam in his eye when he asked you not to ignore him. You shiver as the moments replay in your head, making you wonder how things have come to this. 

You sigh and turn back around to look out at the city one last time before turning into bed. It’s going to be a long week. 

[mousy-nona]

Because I'm a sucker for seeing Vox lose it over RadioApple, and also them dancing, maybe a thing where RadioAaple both a little tipsy, dance in Lucifer's room late at night. Vox sees them on his drone and freaks because 1) Alastor is letting himself be unguarded with a person 2) Alastor is dancing and 3) Alastor has, in fact, made nice with the King like Vox was afraid of. Very nice by the looks of it.

“Do you ever think you may have a problem?”

That was Velvette, who was using her best “let’s not piss off the crazy man” voice. 

“No.”

“Not even a little one?”

“No.”

Valentino and Velvette exchanged telling looks, which Vox promptly ignored. He had more important things to worry about, like keeping this stupid drone in the air. Maneuvering the machine itself was easy, but getting around the electromagnetic force field Alastor had set up around the hotel’s perimeter was a whole lot trickier. Vox had been flying in circles for hours, trying to find a weak spot in Alastor’s defenses. 

(He knew it’d been hours because Velvette had started shooting worried glances at him around hour two, Valentino had showed up around hour five, and they’d started a game of rock-paper-scissors to figure out who was going to do a wellness check on him around hour six.)

“Ah-ha!” Vox screamed, jabbing both fists in the air when the force field flexed and glitched, creating a half second window of opportunity. He urged the drone forward, barely zipping past before the shield re-formed. “Boo-yah! Who’s your daddy?” 

Valentino smirked and took in a long drag of his pipe. “Vox, baby, not outside the bedroom.” 

Vox’s metal heart – the same one he always denied having – started beating faster as the camera zoomed closer and closer to the hotel. He zipped to Alastor’s radio tower first, then his room, frowning slightly when all he found was a half-eaten deer, a cooling cup of coffee, and a discarded coat.

From behind him, Velvette clapped her hands with an annoyed huff of relief. “Oh, well, looks like the asshole is out. Too bad, so sad. Can we please get back to something actually fucking important?” 

But Vox shook his head. “That doesn’t make sense. It’s 11 o’clock. Alastor usually finishes his business before seven so he can have dinner at eight, or else he gets too hungry to do–” He trailed off when he saw the look on both their faces. They were both staring at him as if he was a terminal patient, come down with an incurable case of Alastor-itis. 

He sighed and re-focused on the screen. “It just doesn’t make sense, okay?”

The library. The lobby. The kitchen. Alastor was nowhere to be found.

Then Vox had a horrible thought. He remembered the rumors flying around town, the wild laughs of excitement and the curses emanating from the hotel recently. He remembered Alastor’s most recent broadcast (“Folks, when living with an annoying roommate, always remember to assert your dominance wherever possible”). And most of all, he remembered Alastor’s smug face as he strolled down the street, humming merrily to himself as he twirled an unfamiliar white top hat on his staff. 

He remembered the strange apple that had appeared on the top right of the hotel, just down the hall from Alastor. 

His heart in his throat, he slowly moved the drone higher, then higher still. Don’t be there, don’t be there, don’t be there –

Velvette and Vox went quiet at the scene that appeared on the screen. Alastor was there all right, but he wasn’t alone. As if he’d suddenly downloaded a virus, Vox could only process what he was seeing in chunks.

He saw the record player first, oddly enough. An old-timey song was playing, static crackling and popping as a low sweet croon, somehow both deep and high, filled the room. 25%.

The room was dark, but a few candles and duck-shaped lamps were gleamed with a heavenly light, washing the pair slowly revolving in the center of the room in a seductive golden glow. 50%. 

The king of hell was there. The expression on his face was…tender. His head was tucked into Alastor’s narrow chest, one hand on Alastor’s shoulder and the other clasped in Alastor’s hand. His eyes were sparkling, almost overfilled with a nameless emotion that Vox knew all too well. Alastor’s hand was curled around his waist protectively (possessively). 75%. 

And finally, Vox saw Alastor. Really saw him, as if for the first time, because this wasn’t his Alastor. His Alastor was always one step ahead, always untouchable, cold, cruel, and capable of truly unspeakable acts of violence with an effortless charm that made his blood boil with envy and need at the same time. 

But the Alastor in front of him…his coat was off. For the first time in fifty years, Vox saw Alastor’s bare skin, his shirt rolled up to his elbows as he allowed another living soul to see him undressed. Unguarded. His eyes, always so alert and aware, were closed. 

Worst of all was his smile. It looked soft. Gentle – or whatever passed for gentle with Alastor. As Vox watched, Lucifer’s lips moved. The words were too soft for the drone to pick up, but whatever it was, Alastor laughed. Not in a mocking or teasing way, but an actual, genuine laugh, as if Alastor was a real boy with a real heart.

100%.

Suddenly, Alastor’s eyes flew open, and he stared at Vox through the screen. The wicked smirk that curled his lips was the last thing the drone ever saw as it glitched, red shaking and warping the feed until it went completely dead, and the three of them were left staring at a black screen. 

Silence reigned. Then – “Well, I’ll be. Looks like the deer found himself a doe.”

Velvette shot Valentino a warning look, then took a hesitant step forward. “Vox – “ Velvette started, but Vox started cackling. Wild, out of control, utterly insane laughs ripped from his wires as his monitor-face went haywire. 

“I am going to kill that motherfucker!”

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Notes: Scientific Literacy

Scientific Literacy - the ability to parse through scientific information and understand it. Furthermore, it can entail the knowledge necessary to conduct experiments, hypothesize about new data, and think critically about the wider world.

How to Improve Scientific Literacy

The more science literate a society becomes, the better equipped it is to meet the challenges of the contemporary world. Consider these ways to improve the public understanding of science:

Combat misinformation. Science education is essential to combating misinformation. Unless people know how to vet sources of information, they’re more prone to take untrue or science illiterate alternatives at face value. This has led to people outright denying the reality of climate change and global warming, as well as refusing to take life-saving vaccines.

Demonstrate the real-world value. People are more likely to achieve scientific literacy when they see it has pragmatic value. Show students how an increased understanding of science can boost economic productivity, increase personal well-being, improve professional development, and have a positive general impact on their everyday lives.

Specify needed skills. There are many different important science literacy skills, so help people break them down into manageable chunks. Walk students through how to form a hypothesis, conduct an experiment using the scientific method, or read through a science paper and evaluate its veracity.

Take a wide-angle view. Encourage people to study all sorts of different scientific fields. For example, someone may have a hard time understanding the scientific processes underlying a life science (like chemistry) but also take to a more physical branch of the field (like earth science). You could then use their enthusiasm for the latter to inspire them to work harder to understand the former. Utilize different science teaching strategies to encourage a love of the field in general.

How to Evaluate Scientific Literacy

There are various approaches you can take to test for scientific understanding. Here are a few key ways to evaluate literacy in the science classroom:

Follow an established science curriculum. You can find plenty of curricula to guide your own personalized science education goals. For example, institutions like the American Association for the Advancement of Science and the National Academy of Science provide general wisdom about how to teach students to become science literate throughout their time in school.

Start a dialogue. Constant conversation and experimentation are part of the very nature of science. As such, scientific inquiry requires a group approach to problem-solving. Ask your students to help each other deepen their understanding of scientific concepts and step in to assist them along the way. See if they’re grasping these concepts as you talk to them.

Test for knowledge. Try to test for knowledge of science concepts in multiple different ways. Ask your students to conceive of and conduct an experiment from start to finish. Encourage them to write a scientific research paper with the appropriate citation format, utilizing peer-reviewed resources. Provide traditional multiple-choice tests to evaluate general scientific knowledge as well.

The Importance of Scientific Literacy

Scientific literacy enables you to understand why things are the way they are. Becoming a science-literate person can lead to or contribute to:

A greater impetus to act on important issues: Scientifically literate citizens are more likely to act when science indicates a crisis is on the horizon. Scientific issues often become political and ethical issues, drifting out of the lab or classroom into the real world. Science teachers help their students identify issues like these as well as propose ways they can act to solve them.

A greater understanding of the world: From elementary to high school science and beyond, teachers do their best to explain the wonders of the natural world to their students. Scientific knowledge expands your ability to grasp mysteries you previously thought of as inscrutable and unsolvable.

Improved critical thinking skills: Science learning allows you to hone your critical thinking skills in a way that can apply to a vast array of other arenas in your life. As you comb through scientific evidence and assess data, you train yourself to think objectively. Core competencies like these have far-reaching benefits on your general decision-making capabilities.

At a very early age, even elementary school students receive exposure to scientific concepts in the interest of building this sort of literacy.

Schools follow national science education standards to bring the next generation up to speed on everything from physics and chemistry to the broader life and social sciences.

Certain scientific authorities lament what they see as the low standards of scientific literacy throughout contemporary society.

They insist we need education reform to ensure the general public can better learn to see the world through a science-oriented lens.

Source ⚜ More: Notes & References ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

[mira--image]

Here's a wip compilation of my latest piece!

[Masterpost]

You ever take a photo of a sketch because you're about to commit to lineart and wanna make sure you have a record of it in case it gets ruined? 😂

Even my tiniest eraser was bigger than Leo's face, which meant if I made a mistake, I was starting over. If you haven't yet noticed, I like to draw small, which has natural consequences 😂

Those who follow my Instagram actually saw wips for this drawing ages ago— I mostly post to my story there, and it's more daily shenanigans than just art if you like following that kind of social media!

When i'm intimidated by a piece, I like to pick a stage and completely finish it so I can get an idea of what the final product will look like, and complete it in more manageable chunks.

Mikey be like 🦅🦅

Another example of me doing all of a chunk first so I can see if the process is worth trusting— the answer was a resounding yes! I also like seeing the colored lineart before shading.

Told ya the paper was brown! I have a white pen that smudged when I first colored over it— but when I realized I could use that to my advantage, I really enjoyed using it to blend colors in the background, since my markers are india ink and are usually resistant to that unless very wet! Speaking of markers, these things are old enough to go to middle school, every time I use them it's a gamble to see how long they'll last XD

[librarycards]

do you have any tips for making reading more accessible for people with attention / focus issues and low energy? i feel like whenever i try to read, i'm missing huge chunks of information or otherwise not reading as closely as i would like due to having adhd, and it discourages me from reading entirely.

ty for the question! I've addressed this in some ways here and here, but i'm also listing some quick bullet points for both pleasure / leisure reading and for more intentional reading (it's important to have both in your life!)

intentional reading: citation managers, esp. Zotero, are your friend. Read slowly and annotate. annotation forces your brain to get out of skim-mode and really think about what you need to remember from a given passage! it's best to do this when you're not on a deadline, because you can take all of the time you need.

intentional reading: for many people, print is the only way they can read intentionally, as digital is too distracting. try printing readings or using only paper books, and get physical with them - colored highlighters and pens, post it notes, etc. physical engagement helps a lot! write in your books!

intentional reading and leisure reading: if you're worried about not retaining information, try doing a quick mental summary after every x number of pages, or every chapter, etc. like, okay, if your friend asked "what happened in chapter 3" what would you say? I do this all the time, especially when i'm reading more intricately plotted scifi/fantasy with lots of unfamiliar words/names, as i get confused. if it's a very popular book with existing summaries, you can also read a chapter summary after finishing a chapter and make connections/go back to places you didn't understand. this is the best use of sparknotes and similar services, imo.

for leisure reading: you're reading for fun, so make your environment as comfy as possible. do you have a drink or snack with you? do you have your annotation materials close? make reading as convenient as possible so that you don't have to interrupt your time.

if you're busy or work with your hands, try an audiobook! you can speed it up or slow it down, depending on your brain's processing speed. [i listen to mine on 2x speed (narrator accent permitting) bc i'm a maniac.]. for a lot of people, stimming while reading helps them stay focused, so if you stim by knitting/doing something with both hands, audio might be for you.

for leisure and intentional reading, especially if the book is very difficult, you can try listening to an audiobook while reading a physical copy! if you're in college and have accommodations, you might be able to get audio copies of otherwise unavailable books through disability services.

lastly, for leisure reading: don't be afraid to start basic. there's kind of a novella boom happening right now, and a lot of books below 200 pages getting the recognition they deserve (if people want, i can make a recs post for short books?). if you can read ten pages a day, you can finish a 200 page book in less than 3 weeks, which is a lot more encouraging than picking up a 600 page tome. if you want to start smaller, try 5 pages! some people assume that they need to read a ton immediately, but what matters is that you're enjoying it and getting something from it. Quality >>>>> quantity.

Let me know if this is helpful/if you have any other questions! Good luck and happy reading :)

[monikahmakes]

I love your paper stone landscapes! Would you mind sharing more about the process for constructing the stones or what they look like before you carve into them?

Took me long enough, but I'm finally going to answer this!

I start with a piece of thin cardboard (behold my fine local Microcenter advertisement!) and a big pile of scrap paper torn into small pieces. I mix up my paint- usually acrylic with added white glue or gel medium to get it to stick more firmly, but I've used latex paint, other glues and mediums, or basically whatever's around.

I brush on a thick layer of paint, then lay down a small piece of paper, then brush on more paint, taking care to smooth and adhere it firmly without bubbles. I use my crappiest old paintbrushes, because you really have to mash it down and ruin your bristles. Then I just keep layering, overlapping pieces of paper and changing colors of paint when I feel like it, until I have a rough lump maybe half an inch high at its highest point.

I let the lump dry overnight, then trim the edges and cut the lump into carving-sized pieces with a utility knife while it's still pretty soft inside. I let the pieces dry for another few days, until they aren't palpably squishy any more- the paint needs to be dry all the way through, or it won't carve neatly.

I carve my chunks down using a sharp knife, a little chunk of wood as a platform, and a cutproof glove, because I'm clumsy. I have to sharpen my knife CONSTANTLY because of how badly the dense paper dulls it. Sometimes, if the piece is thick or I hit a spot that isn't fully dry, I'll do a rough carve and let it dry longer before finishing.

I make organic shapes with both curves and angular facets, trying to highlight the best patterns inside it, and I figure I'm done when all the surfaces are smooth and I like the way it looks.

As I'm carving, I produce these beautiful little curls of stripy paper-composite. The nicer pieces that don't fall apart are carefully set aside to make things like this. The messier ones get recycled into paper pulp for sculptural projects.

There should probably be another step- sealing the surface of the carved item to protect it from damage and moisture- but I haven't yet found a sealant that doesn't darken the color and change the finish in ways I really don't like. It's a shame, because I think these would make lovely jewelry, but they're just too delicate to be worn casually. But my experiments are still ongoing, when I get around to them- I'm always trying to do too many things at once.

Thanks for asking!

[elysians-adventures]

My Muse

Chapter 2: 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐟𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬

➺ Confusion fills the both of you in different forms.

Elliott has met the new farmer, and quickly becomes infatuated. He attempts to keep his focus on his writing-- and fails, over and over, rather becoming a lovesick poet.

Pairing: Elliott x Farmer!Fem!Reader

➺ previous chapter masterpost next chapter

The morning doves squawked their song, rising you from your deep slumber. You had an odd dream that night, involving parsnips, letters and some sort of… what was it again? You shook your head, deciding to cast the thought away. It left you a little shaken up– yet you couldn’t understand why you dreaded the letters aspect out of all. Sliding the thin blanket away from your body, you put on your slippers. Clack. A sharp sound sounded outside, like a letterbox being closed. You peeked your head through the misted windows, seeing some paper peeking through the hole in the box. Whoever delivered it must have done a terrible job, folding most of the letters– giving them dog-eared looks. 

 

Gradually, you finished your morning routine, having brushed your teeth, dressed appropriately for farm-work and steeled yourself for the gruelling hours you were about to endure. Noticing the parsnip seeds on the table at your left, you pocketed them and exited the door. You decided to make a mental list of what you had to do for the day: plant the parsnips, meet the other villagers, check out the deeper parts of the farm, check out your letters and… you almost forgot. You took out the seashell in your pocket, looking at the small engravings in it. You had to return this to Elliott– remember?

Taking your hoe, you began. Heave– ho, heave– ho. 

Either breakfast didn’t give you enough energy, or you were extremely unathletic. Each time you hoed the ground you felt a small chunk of you being ripped away, leaving you absolutely exhausted at the end of it. To be fair, it wasn’t only hoeing you did, but also chopping down the trees that seemed to infestate your farm like pests.  

 

You wiped the sweat from your face, breathing heavily. Sowing was much easier, barely taking a swipe to finish all your seeds. Planting parsnips, done. You may have forgotten an important piece of the process, yet you didn’t notice yet.

 

Now for the next job in question would be… checking out the letters, right? It was right there on your farm, it wouldn’t make sense not to since you were already here. You opened the box, a flurry of paper spewing out. The previous critique of the postman being bad was gone, rather feeling pity for him having hauled all of this so far. Most were from your parents and old friends from Zuzu, congratulating you for moving and wishing you luck. Some with small specks of change and food here and there. Though, a few were from villagers, piquing your interest.

 

 

From Robin,

 

Hey there, Y/N! I’m the carpenter for this town. We already got introduced when you first got off the bus, but I wanted to remind you about me… annnd to encourage you to come to my shop sometime! 50% Off for the first time!

 

 

You smiled, switching to the next letter.

 

 

Ahoy farmer, me and your grandfather were buds a while ago. Come to the beach and I’ll teach you some tips on how to fish. It’s the best sustainable way to eat meat here in the valley. I’ll even share some stories about me and your pops when we were young.

 

Willy.

 

 

Each villager had their very own writing styles, though it seemed all of them shared the mutual feeling of wanting to meet you. There was one last letter from someone, marked with a cross on the envelope. The rest of the letters being maps for the village and a small guide.

In scrawly handwriting, it was written:

 

 

Your eyes are a prison I never wish to escape from,

Nor accept rescue. You are like the sun;

I wish to for you to shine forevermore, 

Even if in my mind it will be.

But even the sun does not compare to your beauty,

Even with its light it does not hold a candle to your eyes.

 

 

You stared at the words for a few moments. Confused. Surprised. Perplexed. Any of these words wouldn’t begin to describe how you felt. The letter wasn’t signed, and it seemed like it was crumpled before, being straightened out and folded neatly to send to you. You could see how hard the pen was pressed against the paper, making obvious markings. 

 

You blinked slowly, before pocketing the letters, still startled. How were you meant to react? Sure, you felt complimented, but you hadn’t even met anyone in town… hold up… it couldn’t be? He did say he was a writer, and this is a poem, but it felt like the coincidence was too great. Surely after only a day of not even ‘knowing’ each other, he couldn’t be enamoured?

 

The song of the birds softened, letting you listen to your thoughts. There was no way, literally. Only a crazy person would fall so hard so easily… thus, you decided to stop thinking about it. Maybe it was someone from Zuzu, having met a few weirdos in your time there.  No, it was definitely someone from Zuzu. At least, that's what you managed to convince yourself. Guilt littered your heart, being suspicious of Elliott felt bad. You had just met him.

 

Okay… you needed to get back on track, what was next? Right, you should return the seashell before anything else, since he was on your mind now. It looked important, and for all you know he could be panicking for it. 

 

You slipped off your boots coated in mud, and decided to wear the farmer attire for the rest of the day, making your way to the beach. During your trip, you had met a few more faces: namely Haley, Harvey and a small kind grandma called Evelyn. Each personality was a stark contrast to each other: Haley having called your clothes ‘dirty’ and ‘unfashionable’; Harvey stressing the need for medical care; and Evelyn simply commenting on how ‘hardworking’ you looked in your denim overalls. By the time you stepped on the sand, a smile coated your features.

 

Your eyes noticed a ginger-haired man wafting through the sand, picking up seashells and tossing them after examining them for a brief period. It seemed your doubts were right.

“Hey, Elliott!” You waved at him from a distance, though your voice seemed to stop the man in his tracks.

 

You couldn’t have found out already, surely? His thoughts were a sudden wreck, already in a mess due to losing his belonging. He stopped in his tracks, slowly raising his eyes to meet yours. You held a look of utter innocence and obliviousness. His doubts seemed to wash away like seafoam… talking of seafoam, his feet were getting wet– water seeping through his shoe. 

 

“Y/N,” he said, shakily– silently as if admiring you, before clearing his throat and repeating it louder for you to hear: “Y/N.” 

You walked towards him, palm outstretched with the clam in-hand. He bore a look of amazement, taking it gently from your hand. The man couldn’t believe you had found it, and nevertheless, returned it. Elliott worried Vincent or Jas mistook it for a normal shell, yet it seemed as if fate brought you two together.

 

“What’s with all the little drawings carved on it?” You asked, still smiling, happy that he looked so grateful.

“Ar… Urm…” He stumbled on his words, putting the object in his pocket and closing it tightly. Never again… “It’s a gift from Leah, my first friend in Pelican Town. She picked up this shell from the tidepools down there, and painstakingly carved out each drawing by hand. I couldn’t bear to lose my lucky charm, thank you, Y/N.”

 

The absolute show of gratitude almost caught you off guard, Elliott cupping his heart to show his utter appreciation for your attention. ‘ My muse is observant, best not to let my heart take me again and deliver one of those poems lest she figures it out… ’ He sighed, his thoughts bothering him. Why on earth had he trekked out in the early hours of the morning to show you his lovesick work? After he came back, a sense of guilt overtook him like nothing else, yet it was too late. 

Perhaps he was too forward… at least he complimented himself for not signing the letter.

 

“That’s so cool! They’re so tiny, that must’ve taken a lot of time,” you commented, now staring him directly in the eye. The man’s thoughts were abruptly interrupted, now focusing once on you. His mind ran wild with ideas simply standing by you, all to fuel his novel. He couldn’t let such a source of inspiration go. He had written more last night than he had in the past months, even though it was unrelated to the book.

 

“Yes, she actually gives me some art every once or so, in exchange for a sneak peek at my book…” He trailed off, adding quietly at the end: “not that I work on it these days…” The fact you were interested was bewildering to him, barely able to speak such things with others. They all shook him off, so he rather chose to be a listener than a speaker. In fact, his previously honeyed words stopped short at your sight, barely able to hold a conversation now. What have you done to him? You must be a witch, in his eyes, to make him so longing. 

 

He could not yet describe this as love, rather a lust to continue his long-lost passion by using you. That’s why he felt guilty. All these thoughts crossed his mind a split second before you responded, still joyous and unaware.

 

“Oh! You told me you were a writer, but I didn’t know you were writing a book…” You stopped short, wondering if that sentence made you sound stupid or ignorant to what writers do, “What’s it about?”

 

Elliott took a breath, ‘ compose yourself ’, “It’s a secret,” he winked, a smile creeping up his face once more.

 

“Agh, c’mon man. Can’t you spill?” You asked, pouting slightly in disappointment. Taking a slight glance at the sky, you remembered your list. And how little time you had to complete it. 

You went through it again in your head: meet villagers, clean your farm– you forgot to water your parsnips! You weren’t confident that they would die, after all they were seeds, but you weren’t going to mess up on your first harvest. 

Before letting him respond, you started to back away slightly, “Elliott, I forgot something important! Just– tell me about it through the mail or something, okay? Or, I’ll come by later!” 

 

You began jogging on the spot, waiting for a nod of acknowledgment from the man. When received, you began dashing back to the bridge, a fog of sand trailing your steps. 

 

Elliott was left there, slightly amused by your sudden disappearance and slightly disheartened. He was about to tell you, yet it seemed there was something more important in your mind. You had only came to give him back his belongings, so why was he so irritated? ‘ Something more important than me? ’ He couldn’t stop thoughts of envy, he had met you so shortly and yet he was thinking like this. 

 

Was it the practical human isolation? He hadn’t talked to anyone in a week. Or was it…? The ginger-haired man shook his head violently. He gripped his wrist in shame, trailing back to the cabin. The sound of his shoes and stones coming together resonated through his mind, deciding to focus on his environment for now. If he thought about you now, god forbid, he might do the same as last night. His eyes were still heavy and wrist was still tired. Yet, he couldn’t stop reciting in his mind, no matter how hard he tried. 

 

Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?

[sp1ll3d1nk]

A little guy COMPLETED (part IV)

Started 8/23/24

Completed 9/1/24

I put all faith in the process and look at him.

YOU GUYS BETTER TRUST THE PROCESS WHEN IT COMES TO PROJECTS. They may end up becoming unbalanced (ahem.) but it's worth it at the end.

I painted his gloves, but I don't think this picture does it justice. I made his scarf (?? idk what it's called) out of paper and taped it to him.

My camera was absolutely tweaking out with this photo. I'm a little upset about that. Finally, him in his round head glory.

Under the cut is just a few words I have about this guy and the future of the blog (nothing bad dw!!)

I am absolutely glowing with pride from this dude. For the few days where he stood un-painted, I was really thinking about giving up on him since I've been tired and the want to start on other projects was getting to me.

Surprisingly the only thing that kept me going was the fact I didn't want another two chunks of dried clay on my desk. (The other chunks came from a never finished WIP for my Ralsei cosplay.) They're still sitting here very much lifeless.

I'm glad I have another addition to my ghost collection. He sits on the other side of the of my Papa Nihil 'figure'.

Now for the future of the blog:

For a while I've been wondering if I should keep this a Ghost fan page or if I should post art of the fandoms, I'm into (like ATHF, Undertale, Splatoon). I also have a story that I'm currently writing that's unrelated to everything that I just spoke about. But uh it would be nice to hear what y'all think.

If you made it this far tysm and hopefully I didn't bore you with this block of text.

[scummy-writes]

I'm beginning the process of showcasing W.I.P.s that I've been wanting to finish forever, however time has passed by to where these have gathered dust for a year or more, ensuring they'll never be finished. But I still love the ideas and the varying levels of effort that went into them, so I've decided to show what has been written coupled with author notes to explain the idea futher and the thought process alongside it.

Rating: General

Ship: Isaac/Arthur. It's there but you can squint it away.

Document Title: 'Isaac arthur beta'

『• • • ✎ • • •』

Settled on Arthur's lounge, legs thrown over the writer's, Isaac read over the latest manuscript Arthur had completed. 

While the writer's thumbs drumming on his knees wasn't enough to break his immersion, beginning a new page and meeting Arthur's gaze briefly was. 

Isaac honestly had no idea why Arthur wanted his opinion so badly. He wasn't one to casually read fiction, mind too preoccupied with whatever he was researching at the moment, but once the two of them became entangled and slowly opening up, Isaac became one of Arthur's few early readers.

Once he finished the new short story, he folded the papers in his lap, fiddling with the corners.

"Well?" Arthur's tapping on his knees stopped, his tone breezy as he gave Isaac a smile.

This was another reason Isaac was so unsure why Arthur asked him to do this: compliments from Isaac were always so awkward, and often sounded…poorly. No matter the intentions he had.

"It was...Good. The quality hasn't gone down."

"Well, I sure hope it hasn't!" Arthur laughed, using Isaac's knees to prop an elbow on, "Go on, then."

"Go on?"

"Were you able to visualize everything?"

"I don't understand why you ask me that every time-"

"Humor me?"Isaac sighed, meeting his boyfriend's playful grin with a frown, "yes, I was able to visualize everything."

『• • • ✎ • • •』

Notes:

Back in 2020, I ended up writing a lot of Isaac/Arthur, or a lot of Isaac/Mc/Arthur. So much so that I have an abandoned series centered around the three of them getting together. And back then my primary writing was, usually, smut unlike nowadays. But I liked imagining a lot of the quiet moments they could have, or just friendly moments that weren't entirely focused on shipping or sex or anything similar. Just pretty mundane.

This resulted in me wanting to write a good chunk about how Isaac, and others, did in fact enjoy Arthur's writing - then this later got confirmed by Cybird in a later event or route.

I lost steam on this piece, but it was going to highlight how Isaac rarely showcases his thoughts regarding creative works. He has a history of being unable to share his research, or struggling to do so, due to past experiences, so i ran to the conclusion that for his personal takes on creative pieces, especially onces he himself had no part in, he would struggle to find the words.

Arthur is already famous as a writer, but I think he'd give peeks of early versions to those interested in the mansion. Most of his escapism attitudes result in drinking or sleeping around, but I think he would cave towards sharing his work early as another - healthier - way to tap into the old joys of creating again; to see how people reacted when reading it. (We do get hints of this in various events or routes, but this is just a headcanon to me).

This was going to roll into Isaac being grumbly over why his opinion was so important, but Arthur just wanted an excuse to spend time with someone else - while also enjoying watching someone read his work favorably. Plus, I think he'd have a fun time forcin Isaac to use his 'words'.

It ties into another scrapped piece I have about Arthur having writers block, and lamenting it Loudly to the point of other mansion residents raising complaints or trying to annoyingly help him out - before kicking him out of their rooms and leaving him for Theo to deal with.

[whats-she-gonna-post-next]

So I just finished binding Trust Life by the absolutely amazing @chaiandsage (Hello, I am ready to be perceived now, I hope that I have done your story even the slightest bit of justice) and I just wanted to make a post both showing it off, and going through what I learned doing this bind because I did a few new things here and want to talk about it.

Also I'm not going to subject you all to this, so most everything but the final product here is going to be below the cut.

(Also so sorry that the photos aren't the best. I am... Very bad at photography, lmao)

Ok, so let's start off with some of the cool things I learned during this bind. Or, maybe not necessarily cool, but they are things I learned and I think that learning is cool!

First off, I learned how to download and add fonts to Microsoft Word, which while not interesting, does open up a whole world of fonts for future binds. Is it a little late in the game to have found this? Probably. But it is what it is. I actually downloaded a pretty good chunk of different ones, but the fonts I actually used were MF Love Dings for the heart motif dividers, which was a new download, and then a few standard fonts - Edwardian Script ITC for the title pages, Baskerville Old Face for the chapter headers, Book Antiqua for the chapter titles, and good old Garamond for the actual text of the novel.

Here is the divider and the title fonts. I just think they are neat.

Another thing I learned was how to make book cloth! I found these squares of white cotton fabric at a dollar tree and decided to give it a go. The way I did mine was by painting them first (a task in and of itself, and as you can see on the cover, did not turn out super even, but I love them nonetheless) and then I glued down a layer of tissue paper to give it a little stiffness and make it stick to the chipboard easier, it was a super cool process and I look forward to trying it again in the future now that I have done it once and have a better idea of how I can improve in the future

And now onto some of the other cooler parts of the process!

So I had a lot of fun doing the formatting, it's my favourite part of any binding process, I cannot tell you how many fics I have formated that I have yet to print out and actually bind because I enjoy the process so much (the answer is actually 5 that are completely formatted and ready to go, 3 that I am actively in the middle of formatting, 4 projects completed - including this one, which... may technically count as 3, granted 2 of them were gifts for other people - and 3 that I am planning on doing that I haven't gotten to start on yet. Oh, and a 5 part series that I have printed out but haven't actually bound yet. I have a problem, lmao.) As I mentioned, I downloaded a few fonts for this but it just ended up looking so good in the end. Here is what some of the inner formatting looks like (I did just take the screenshots from word, I thought it was easier than getting the pages in the book)

Something else! This was the first time I actually broke a single fic into multiple parts, and I do not regret it. Each section is fairly large on its own, so it would have been a monster all together. I gave them basically the same title pages and such, just used the main stories summary for all of them and copy pasted everything - work smarter, not harder - and kept the same format for the chapters and such. There were 2 obvious spots (at least imo) for breaking things up, those being at the end of chapter 24, and then again at the end of 57, if you know, you know. However, that made the divide be 24 chapter, 33 chapter, 9 chapters. I was a little worried about how that divide to affect the look of the books, but I was pleasantly surprised how well it worked out. Book 2 there is quite obviously the largest part (it's basically double the length of book 1) but book 3 was surprisingly long for being only 9 chapters and I think they look fairly cohesive together. I didn't realize how long the last nine chapters themselves were. The first and third ones are actually about the same size together as book two, which is pretty cool!

When it came time to put together the actual books, I stuck with my tried and true french link stitch, as I find it to be a sturdy stitch, and then used green, yellow, and red card stock for the end pages, I felt it thematic.

I'm super excited to have this as a physical book now, thank again to chaiandsage for allowing me to bind this amazing story and just for writing it in the first place! I read it like twice in the span of a month, and I swear I have read chapter 57 and 58 themselves way too many times to count. Not even going to mention the amount of times I read the last 6 chapters because I just love a good happy ending.

But yeah, I'm really happy how this bind turned out, I still have to put an actual cover in these - which I plan on doing, I have a friend who is going to help me with the cover design when they are free, so there will be an update at some point.

[taanoir]

Chapter One: The Beginning - Part 2

As they neared the castle Ryn was filled with dread. This was feeling less and less like a friendly invitation.

From his home to the castle was a 30 minuet walk most days, with the crowds clearing the streets at the sight of him being escorted, it was 20 tops.

The guard deposited him in a chair and told him to wait for the High Spellcaster, no other information was offered. What could the High Spellcaster want with him? He had just finished his studies, was this an offer for a position in the castle? Probably not, he wasn’t exactly “scholar” material. Maybe it was about his mother? She was ravaged with the crimson agony but still holding onto the threads of life. His mind wandered to his father, Thadd, he had died of the same illness last fall. They were sill trying to process his loss when she came down ill. Memories of his pale sunken face, tinged with stains of blood flooded back, the dried blood caked in his ringlets, his mother gently caressing his face with warm rags, the smell of herbs.

Raerynn sat with the torrent of thoughts until he was jarred to the present by a perturbed clerk snapping at him. "Raerynn! Did you hear me boy? The High Spellcaster will see you now!” Raerynn took to his feet and legged it behind the clerk who was already ten paces ahead. They came to a beautifully carved door that opened without a sound.

A dark cavernous room enveloped them as they stepped through leaving the color and light behind them. In a singular motion that might have been confused for floating, the clerk announced Raerynn’s presence and returned to the light . A gruff command emanated from the shadows “Don’t be rude, come sit.”

The young Spellcaster chose one of the seats facing the vacant desk, the only light shone from a single candle. From out of the shadows came an old Spellcaster. The robes of his office were unwieldly, he struggled to tame them as he found his seat. The old sorcerer introduced himself as The High Spellcaster Gonesic, head of the Children of Rovuni, special council to King Benorin.

The old Spellcaster’s waxy complexion was exaggerated by his silver beard and the deep red of his robes, he was much smaller than Ryn has imagined. Raerynn began to introduce himself but was cut off by the old Spellcaster "Raerynn, welcome. I'm familiar with you, please forgive the rush but we’re short on time for formalities.” He shuffled several papers on his desk, finally locating the one he was looking for “Your Instructor sent over your final evaluation marks. A passable student with the ability to open wickets. Does that sound correct?"

Another tide of panic washed over Raerynn, he suddenly felt he was going to be sick. Pressure built up in his chest, he stammered "Yes, yes your grace. bbbut I only opened a wicket twice and it was an accident. It won't happened again."

Gonesic raised his brow, "Oh but it will. It's precisely why I sent for you and why your mother needs you. That's a very rare talent."

Confused by the response Raerynn murmured "I'm not sure how that is going to help my mother or be of help to you?"

A wide smile crept across the senior's face, he softened his tone "I have discovered a cure for the Crimson Agony but, I’ve run into a snag. I need a spell from a book that's in a specific wicket, a very old wicket. I need you to open it and bring me the book. It would help me immensely and in turn would help your mother."

The young Spellcaster's eye widened, any chance was better than none. "But I've only opened two wickets by accident. You're asking me to open a very specific one. As much as I really want to help, I don’t think I can. This is way beyond my what I can do."

Gonesic drew an ornate ring from his drawer and set it on the desk "Do you recognize this boy?" Raerynn gazed at the chunk of metal and jewels, the stone burned like embers in the flickering candle light, he shook his head no, but in his heart he knew he would be leaving with it. "This is the ring which belonged to Lucjan the Great, King of the Spellcasters. He wore this ring throughout his reign, including the signing of the Caster Treaty. It stayed on his hand until his death and passed to his son, King Owain and through the line for four generations to our Grace King Benorin. This ring is also the key to a hidden wicket, a book of spells from one of the greatest healers was placed there for safe keeping by the Great King. With the book I’ll be able to finish my work and bring this dreaded illness to an end. Now, I expect you will need some training. I can have some tomes brought up from the library. It's been a very long time since this skill has been seen so the texts are in in middle Cuquan. Is that a text familiar to you?"

His cheeks felt like the surface of the sun "No your grace, well not fully, I of course know parts but not all of it."

Gonesic was slightly annoyed, "Hmmm, very well, I will also find you a tutor. This task is imperative, not just to the Spellcasters but the rest of the realms. It needs to be done expeditiously for the sake of the people of Oerties and your mother."

Raerynn lowered his head, "Thank you your Grace."

With a wave of his hand the High Spellcaster dismissed Raerynn back to to the waiting area.

He strode back to the hall and found his seat amongst the pools of light, the day had grow later, the vibrant rainbow had dulled to deeper tones. He didn’t think he was in the office that long.

The interaction dominated his thoughts and he found himself fidgeting, rubbing his hands and picking at the hard little bits around his nails. Where was the wicket with the book, how far would he need to travel? Would his mom last until he returned? When was he leaving and could he go home to tell his mom? Who would watch Hestia? His sister was half grown but she wasn't ready to run the house with their mom flat out.

He replayed the conversation over and over in his head. The High Spellcaster needed an old book hidden in a wicket, a book that could heal the sick and stop more Dunerell from dying. All that was holding up a cure to save countless lives, was him.

The more he dwelled on it the more he realized he didn't ask nearly enough questions.

Beginning / Previous / Next

[gomzwrites]

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

a/n: Im fERAL over Professor Price contents, and I NEED MORE- so here's my take, with a spin! >:)

Pairing: Professor John Price x fem!reader x Mr Simon Riley

Notes:

✎…Banner taken from Pinterest and edited, drawing done by @gomzdraws ✎…Reader's texts are in purple, indented text are memories ✎…Want to be added into a tag list? click here ✎…Part 1 (you're here!) is introduction, just me setting the scene for our reader and displaying the vibes from Price and Riley in this AU ✎…Part 2 is smut :) tags will be shown there but in short it is a slow build up ✎…Chocolate is just my thoughts, process, notes, recommendations and future planning for the series, I welcome discussions over there if you're interested :D

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

➵ Part 1

You rubbed your eyes as you finished scribbling around your tablet, noting down the last important point of the lecture with a small yawn. Maybe staying up late and studying four chapters ahead was not a good idea after all. But you always study ahead because you take a longer time to understand and digest information. Not that you’re slow or anything, but sometimes the lecturers speak too fast or brush over some points that make you feel puzzled or confused, and that confusion often carries on to the next content, but feeling prepared for a lesson is also a good practice even if that is not the case.

"That will be all for today."

The statement elicited a few cheers and sighs from the students as Mr. Simon Riley, the lecturer in charge of the module today, ended the class. You liked his class because he was great at explaining everything, easily breaking down big chunks of information into small, digestible notes to see the entire picture. What you really like about him, though, is how he always offers to help out when you have any questions.

You glance back at him who was organising his papers on the podium, staring down from your seat as you take in the view. Well, other than the black mask he wore all the time, he is pretty built for a lecturer; perhaps he worked out a lot given how tight those sleeves clinched onto his arms.

You waited until most of the students left as you took your bags and walked up to him, with one tablet in hand and the notes you'd been making. You spoke to him politely after giving him a smile.

Good evening, Mr. Riley. Can I ask you a few questions about the lectures today?

Ah, y/n. Sure, how can I help you at this time?

You proceed to voice out your concerns as he nods and explains. You can feel him standing close to you by your side as you go on, catching a whiff of his cologne sometimes and blushing slightly when his hand brushes against your finger when he takes your stylus pen. You admit you have imagined him in some other ways.

Can you understand? 

He asks you as you glance back at him. Your words catch in your throat as you realise the close proximity; he was just a few inches away from your face, and you swear you would have been able to count the freckles on his pale face. 

A-ah, yes, yes... Thank you, sir. 

You replied back as calmly as you could before slowly turning away and saving your document. He gives a hum as a reply before he glances around and pats your head, like he always does whenever you answer him back, a small gesture that always sends butterflies in your stomach.

Good girl. You know where to find me if you have any more issues. 

Good girl. 

You give him a nod as you hurriedly make for the exit. You’d like to think he treats every student this way, giving praise and guiding them when needed. It’s not like you’re the only student he teaches in class; there are always a few girls who like to surround him sometimes. 

Girls, who, in your opinion, were much prettier than you. Pretty hair, pretty faces, and pretty voices with their pretty outfits that never seem to repeat every day. Meanwhile, you’re more on the formal mundane side, wearing a hoodie most of the time with a pair of black pants during casual lessons; if not, you often wear a white button-up and a long skirt like today. As long as it's comfortable and it's compliant with the university dress code, which, in your opinion, no one really follows, it's good enough for you because you don’t really fuss in terms of appearance; you just want to do well on your course. 

Yet, part of you still indulges in thinking that maybe he did treat you differently than other students. You collected every praise and "good job" handed out by him like a trophy; it also made you push yourself further, chasing after those achievements and scoring well in exams just to get a pat from him on the head or your shoulder, or if you’re lucky, sometimes you’ll get to see him smile without his mask on.

You stop for a moment as you walk past a window, noticing how flushed your cheeks have become from your own thoughts. You shake your head and adjust your hair before a voice catches your attention. 

Evening, y/n, just finished your class?

You look ahead to the source of the voice and give a bow as you nod. 

Ah, good evening, Professor Price. Yes, I just finished the last class of the day. 

He hummed as a reply as he walked closer to you, giving you a smile as you stared at him. He is also another lecturer who is great at what he is doing, though he is slightly more strict and intimidating than Mr. Riley. You wonder if it's because of his much rougher, deeper voice or the muttonchop that made him look older; not that you mind; if anything, he is incredibly dashing in your opinion. With the sway of his hips and his confident voice, sometimes you would get lost in his features in the class, distracting you in a sense.

How’s the assignment coming along? Still having difficulties with it? 

He stops before you and leans on the window with his arm crossed. You gulp when you remember that a few days ago you were asking him a bunch of questions in his office, to which he helped you out immensely, but there are still just a few concepts that you’re not very sure of. Sometimes, he’ll ask you a random question related to the project that, if you can't answer straight away, he’ll shake his head and flick your forehead. You whine every time, but he only chuckles and continues teaching, while calling you nicknames that melts your heart a little every time. 

If you can’t understand this simple concept, then it’ll be harder to grasp it in the next few chapters, darling. I know… but it still hurts. What a soft baby you are Hey, I'm not! 

You know that as annoying as he can be, he only wants the best for his students, so you still try hard every time on his modules, spending more effort just to impress him, to hear him chuckle and pat your back, and to feel the warmth of his hand on yours. 

Ah well- 

y/n! 

You get caught off guard as you look behind, curious as to who called for you and surprised to see Mr Riley jogging towards you and Prof Price. Both lecturers shared a glance in silence before Mr Riley glanced down at you and handed a book to you. 

You left this back at your desk.

Oh! I didn’t even notice... thank you. 

You take your notebook and smile at him, sliding it into your bag as you hear them speak. 

John.

It's good seeing you, Simon. 

You can’t help but feel like there is tension in the air as you look at them before clearing your throat as you awkwardly rub your neck. 

I- well, I guess I’ll get going. 

Not so fast-

Wait- 

Both of them reached out to grab your arm as you jolted slightly; their eyes widened as they, too, shared the same expression. Prof Price was the first to break contact as he let go and cleared his throat, with Mr. Riley following as he glanced away.

You were talking about the assignment. 

You give an "ah" as you snap your fingers. 

Oh right, actually, regarding that, I'm still not certain with the last few points, but I can send you a text on Team instead of taking your time-

No, it’s okay. My office like last time? 

Oh, are you sure? I really don't want to impart your schedule, sir. 

Im sure, darling. 

You stopped protesting as you nodded sheepishly. You watched from the corner of your eyes how Mr Riley was acting rather strangely; his fist curled up into a ball as he glared at Prof Price. You gently grab his sleeves as you tilt your head and stare at him with concern. 

Sir? 

You felt his breath hitch as he snapped his eyes back to you, his gaze softening as he sighs, pats your hand, and nods. You smiled when you saw his tense shoulders relaxed. Prof Price then starts walking to his office as you do the same, with Mr Riley following you close behind. 

I didn’t realise that this assignment was your business as well, Simon.

I may not be the module coordinator, but I’m well versed in the subject too, Professor. 

Once again, the tension returned as you nervously grabbed onto your bag strap, clearing your throat as you tried to stand between them, awkwardly bumping their chest as you gestured your hands in the air. 

E-erm, I wouldn't mind hearing a second opinion…?

You glanced at Prof Price innocently as he stared back at you with a frown while Mr Riley gave a huff of air and nod.  

Ah crap, now I'm pissed off the professor- 

Alright, fine, sure, if it means helping you.

Prof Price said with a groan as he opened the door and guided both of you into his office.

You took a seat on the mahogany office table that wass smaller than his main office desk, taking out your tablet and books as you asked Prof Price your questions. He takes a seat next to you as Mr. Riley does the same, effectively sandwiching you in between them.

You tried your hardest to calm down your heartbeat, praying the fast thumping against your chest and the bounce of your jugular vein were not as loud as you think. You really tried to keep it cool, but every single time they leaned closer, speaking directly into your ears, it made your skin twitch with goosebumps, and the way they took turns praising you when you get things right was making your head dizzy. You swallow hard as you listened and jotted down the notes and points both lecturers were sharing, hoping they don’t notice how your fingers are shaking slightly. 

But of course they noticed. Prof Price leans in as he whispers into your left ear, feeling his beard brushing against your skin. 

Are you alright, darling?

Meanwhile Mr Riley cups your hand as he rubs circles around your knuckles, staring at you as he too, also leans in and watches you with his hazelnut eyes, feeling his chest resting behind your arms.   

I-erm…y-yes… 

You sure? Your cheeks are pretty red. 

Mr. Riley says with a soft tone as he brings his hand and gently strokes a hair strand and tucks it behind your ear, brushing your cheek as you feel your neck burning up. You were about to say something before an arm snaked around your shoulder and pulled you away from him. You gasped when you rested against Prof Price’s shoulder. 

I don’t think it's appropriate to touch a student, Simon.

You’re the one to talk. 

Mr. Riley bit back with a growl as he grabbed your wrist and pulled your arm, causing you to wince slightly at the sudden force as you closed your eyes. 

H-hey erm- 

You called out as you stared back at them nervously, gulping as you watched them stare at you with an expression that sent shivers down your spine. It felt dangerous…but also….enticing. 

What….what’s going on?

You asked again with a shaky tone as they let go of you and sighed. You could tell there was hesitation in the air as Mr. Riley cleared his throat and spoke softly.

y/n…. 

He sucks in another breath as he rubs his neck, unsure and nervous. Prof Price rolls his eyes as he shakes his head and tilts your chin, giving you a sly smirk as he brushes his thumb. 

We’re just wondering…what your opinion is about us.

You blushed at the question as you held your breath, uncertain if you should be honest and confess right then and right now. You looked away shyly as you heard Mr. Riley chuckled, taking off his mask and placing it on the table as he started kissing your knuckles gently as he whispered softly. 

Come on, tell us...you think we don’t know the glances you give us during class? 

I…well- erm- 

You stuttered as you felt Prof Price’s hands slowly trailing down to your waist, resting them there as you felt his breath fanning against the nape of your neck. 

Getting shy of us now, are you? 

You let out a shaky exhale as you hid your face with your hands, unable to face them and be caught red-handed, muttering apologies as you tried to inch away from them. 

I-Im sorry I know I shouldn't-

Hey hey, look at me sweetheart. 

Simon cooed as he took your wrist and rubbed soothing circles on it, easing your nerves as his soft voice calms you down. 

We can stop…, I promise I wouldn’t mind.

Likewise here. I wouldn’t want to make my favourite student uncomfortable.

Real sly, she's mine old man-

Both men bickered around you and couldn't help but let out a small chuckle, making them focus on you again as you cleared your throat and replied meekly.

You are not making me uncomfortable, both of you, I mean... Im just… 

You start off slowly as you take a deep breath, before blinking a few more times as you let out a sigh. 

I just didn’t expect this, I suppose… 

You blushed at your own words as you stared at them through your lashes, watching them shift slightly in silence. 

But why me...?

You dare to ask as they share a glance, then smile back at you as Prof Price snakes his arms around your waist and pulls you close to his chest, while Mr Riley grabs your legs and rests them on his thigh, leaning in close as they caress your hands and face softly. 

We’ll show you why, would you like that darling? 

You nod slowly, heart brimming with anticipation as Prof Price taps your cheeks, angling your face towards him as you feel the deep rumble of his chest against your back.

Words baby. We need to be absolutely sure that you want this.

Just as much as we want you. 

Mr. Riley now hovers over you, and both men await your answer with hungry eyes.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

a/n: ah yes, Simon with dat juicy aSS- have yall seen his senpai skin? Im so not normal about it, anyways, comments and reblogs are always appreciated :]

➵ Part 2 | ➵ Chocolate

[oldiesstationlover11607]

Cookies - Tyler Joseph x Reader

Relationship: Tyler Joseph x Reader

Warnings: Fluff

Word Count: 1065

Summary: Reader teaches Tyler how to bake her signature cookies

Tyler Joseph loved eating cookies. And I loved making them. I’d made my brown butter chocolate cookies for him and Josh every week since we met. Except this time was different, because this was the first time Tyler and I were living together in our own house. And this time I was teaching Tyler how to make them himself. 

“Shouldn’t we be using a recipe?” He asked, grabbing out the ingredients as I called them out. I’d made these cookies more than 10 times, I knew the recipe by memory. 

“I’ve got it Ty, it should be fine,” I said, grabbing out measuring cups, bowls, and a pot to brown the butter. I measured out the butter before placing it on the stovetop to brown. 

“And what’s this supposed to do?” Tyler asked, standing behind me and looking over my shoulder. I could feel his breath on my neck and I smiled to myself, happy he was actually interested. 

“Browning butter makes it have this nutty flavor that makes the cookies taste so good. It’s hard to not burn it though so that’s why I’m doing it for you.” I continued to stir the butter until it foamed up, started to smell nutty, and was a golden brown color. Tyler’s eyes widened as I moved the hot pot off the stove to let the butter cool. “Can you measure out the sugars please? I wrote down the measurements for you,” I asked. He nodded and started pouring white and brown sugar into the bowl. 

“Hey Siri, play y/n’s (insert favorite non tøp band)‘s playlist,” he called out to our smart speaker. I grabbed out the eggs and cracked them into a bowl along with some vanilla extract which Tyler called ‘spicy’ when he dipped a pinky into the bottle. Once the butter had cooled enough I poured it into the sugar bowl and had Tyler stir it. I danced and sang along to the music playing in the background, waiting for him to finish mixing. I added in the eggs and vanilla, he continued mixing. I added the flour, salt, and baking powder. It always got harder to mix once the flour was added and I struggled to watch Tyler be so slow at something I’d done for weeks. 

“God could you stir any slower?” I laughed, snatching the bowl from him and folding the flour in. 

“Well, is there anything else I can do?” He laughed, leaning against the counter. 

“Uh yeah actually. Can you preheat the oven and line the baking trays?” I nodded towards our oven as I grabbed the block of baking chocolate and started to cut it into little chunks. Tyler looked entirely clueless but he was trying and it was cute. He ran a hand through his hair and squinted at the oven dial. “Shit!” I swore, feeling the blade of the knife nick me like a paper cut. 

“I swear y/n if you just cut off your finger with that knife,” Tyler turned around and grabbed my hand to inspect it. He squinted extra hard at the cut till he saw a couple drops of blood and ran to grab the first aid kit. 

“I’m fine, Ty. It happens all the time in the kitchen,” I say, slapping on a bandage and reaching for the knife again. 

“Ah ah, I’m not letting you hold a knife ever again babe. It’s not happening,” he stole it from my grip and started chopping the chocolate exactly how I had been. We finished mixing everything in and put the cookies into the oven. 

“Did you wash those?” I asked, pointing to the pile of dishes we’d been using. 

“Of course I did,” he smiled, pulling me into his chest. “Now we just wait for y/n’s amazing cookies to be done and we can send half off to Josh.” We sat on the floor in front of the oven, me in between Tyler’s legs and his arms wrapped around my waist. I could feel the rising and falling of his chest with every breath. 

“How’s the songwriting stuff coming along?” I asked. He’d been spending a lot of time in the home studio lately. Normally I wouldn’t ask, knowing that his process was very personal and that he’d mention it when he was ready but it felt right to ask. 

“Not too bad. I think you’ll like the new album if that’s what you’re wondering,” he responded. I’d missed spending time with him like this. The last time we properly got to spend time together was when we were on tour and the boys had a lot of spare time waiting around. I was grateful he’d taken the time off, the warmth of his presence filling my heart. 

“I love you,” I rested my head on his chest as he caressed and curled my hair in between his fingers. 

“You’re my everything y/n. I love everything about you,” he pressed his lips softly to my neck, a fluttery feeling running across my skin. “I don’t know where I’d be without your cookies,” he stopped, desperately trying to hold in his laugh and knowing full well that I was about to destroy him. 

“Oh fuck off,” I grinned, jumping up to check the oven, each cookie a perfect flat golden brown treasure. “They’re done if you want to call Josh and Debby to come over,” I placed them on the cooling rack and wrapped one in a napkin for Tyler to eat fresh out of the oven. He responded with a keen hum before taking a bite. 

“Ugh this is why I love you. Because you make the BEST cookies I’ve ever eaten in my entire life,” he groaned with satisfaction.

“Well now you can make them for yourself,” I felt my lips tug up in a smirk, knowing there was no way he’d ever make them for himself. He would just complain they didn’t taste as good if he made them.

“Or… you can just keep making them every week instead of paying rent.”

“I already don’t pay rent, we own the house,” I said, watching him take another bite. 

“Well if you don’t make these then I’ll start charging you, good enough?” He clearly hadn’t thought through the rent joke before attempting to crack it. 

I nodded, chuckling under my breath, “yeah good enough Mr Joseph.”

//

Please submit any requests y'all have! I love to write so let me know if you've got any!

[randomhatthief]

Hello Krista Darling! Please ignore the accidental unfollow/refollow from me missing the button to send you this ask 😅

I have come with questions for you from the writing ask game 🩵

I'd love to hear 10, 20, 22, 34, 37, 80, and 95 if you are so inclined

Never worry, darling, it happens~ I may have gone overboard answering these, but that's the fun, right?

Also I absolutely saw the way yours was formatted and copied it because this is a beautiful solution for readability. 💜💜💜 10. at what point in the process do you come up with titles, and how easy or hard is that for you?

I don’t think I’ve ever started with a title in mind - my WIPs are titled by the ship name for utility so I can tell the files apart. But I’m not that organized of a writer, so titles start floating around sometime in the later half of the concept. I usually have a title before it’s time to publish but sometimes I am absolutely sitting there tapping my foot with a thesaurus open trying to think of something relevant and/or clever with the fic or chapter fully written already lol. It’s definitely gotten easier over time though. I think it helps that I have a better idea of who my characters are these days and more creative friends (like you!) to bounce ideas off of. In The Interim is named that because it was, at conception, literally me filling in what the characters were doing between where our DnD game fell off and the ending we all sort of agreed happened, and it expanded after until now it would be more accurate to call it an epilogue. A lot of my fics over the years have titles, however stereotypical, that come from song lyrics. A Casual Affair at the End of the World Never Stays Casual is quite literally just because I had Casual Affair by P!atD on loop and it fits well enough. A lot of my old fics have chapter titles specifically from a couple songs from Voltaire’s To The Bottom of the Sea album. It’s not clever, really, but titles don’t need to be profound unless that’s your shtick - they need to get someone interested enough to read it, or, as it pertains to me specifically, needs to fill the field so I can get it published. I am admittedly way more clever with chapter titles, I think. Smaller chunks of story are easier to sum up in a nice clean way, and I can usually fit in some nice alliteration or trio of themes. As an example, there’s a WIP chapter of ITI titled Mourning Anew; Three Days before Duty Calls that is gonna be exactly what it says on the tin, but it sounds nice and calls back to the first published chapter, titled Desperate Mourning. That is: Desperate AND Mourning.

20. what is your favorite trope to write?

Pining and Getting Together, probably. In the same way that they’re some of my favorite overarching tropes to read, they’re also the tilt I tend to take on most other AUs and settings. I DO love a good dose of hurt and body horror though, of course. I’m not sure if it counts as whump exactly, but you know that thing I did to Izek? That. Love that. I’m also a huge sucker for Transcendent Devotion, as you well know a la the Demon!Guil AU we have. I had a good time with the Werewolf AU too. Good soup, good soup.

22. describe your writing process from scratch to finish.

Normally, as one might imagine, fics start as elaborate daydreams that possess the body and bewitch the soul. By the time I’m thinking about it or acting it out in the shower, it’s time to put the words down. Most of the time I can go straight to a word doc, but occasionally it also starts with a drawing or even more rarely on paper with pen and pencil. As you well know, chatting with a friend can also totally be a starting point, but normally that is reserved for once I’ve already had them in the michael wave. Anyway from there it turns into The Lists: at first it’s just a bunch of jotted concepts that correlate to the daydreams and little plot bunnies I have in mind that need to be fleshed out/written out. Then as I fill those out they get divided into Sections With Headings and eventually those sections, if applicable, get organized into a chronology. If it’s a particularly large fic, I make a tab somewhere for an outline checklist so it’s easier for me to make decisions about which sections/plots belong to which chapter and what constitutes a chapter as “done”. Once they’re done, they go into another section for finished pieces - so I end up with three sections: 1. Posted, finished sections, 2. An outline for my own reference, and 3. WIPs and Notes, organized vaguely from most to least solid.

34. how do you name characters and places?

Taking into consideration that the setting is important to me, I tend to see if there are any linguistic patterns to start, and then either pick through a list of baby names to find one I like well enough to accept wholesale, OR, more often (because let’s be real there is a lot of fantasy around here) I’ll pull up reference materials and find a generator, then mishmash syllables I like into a name that is pleasant to say.  For example: Balfas is a gnoll, so the wikia pages and generator I found generally offer up long names with hard consonants that sounds like animal noises; growls, barks, and hissing sounds, but I am a simple woman so I need all these gnoll names in his family tree to be pronounceable. So one name might start with or have Ba or Bal (Bahl) in it somewhere, and another might have Fes or just Es/As and they get mushed together into Balfas. Not human, easy enough to say, and his character voice (gruff, gravely, northern accent with a flat affect) pronounces it well. From there, I worked backwards through his genealogy and decided that he was named after an ancestor, and gave them a name similar enough to fit: Belfa For place names, I tend to open up a translation software/dictionary and a thesaurus and start with something like Safe Town and move through other words for Safety and other terms for cities and villages. And it’s EVEN easier if the setting has a language you can reference and translate into. You can really hide a secret in the place names if you're clever enough.

37. when creating characters, what comes first: appearance, backstory, motivation, personality, something else?

Usually their ROLE, I think. I figure out what they need to be ABLE to do and then figure out the hows and whys, then mold their appearance and personalities around that. Imrath is a GREAT example, actually. I was solely thinking about DnD party balance making a paladin and picking a sun deity to fit the Curse of Strahd setting, and then worked backwards from what he needed to do into the rest of him, and kinda figured out his actual morals and personality last. And his appearance, while very fun and important to me, was an afterthought.

80. do you try to put themes, motifs, messages, morals, etc in your writing? if so, how do you go about it?

I do! Mostly character motifs that are specific to their personalities, role, or what happens to them. Let me tell you right now, it is NO mistake that Jericho Cynthusara is named EXACTLY like he is, and he and Henry are both largely inspired by classic lit and art. One of these days I’ll go into much greater detail about it, but Jericho himself is spawned directly from Rachel Ruysch’s vanitas still lifes.

95. do you describe a character’s appearance all right away or in pieces?

I try to do it in pieces; mention an eye color here, a hair length there, or an overall affect of them in more flowery terms that give the feel of them more than the minute details of them. It’s way more important that the reader understands that Imrath can command the room around him and that he’s a ray of sunshine than me getting across that he’s got long blonde hair. The exception is in the pining sections where whomever their love interest is is having a moment of being head over heels - the intimacy comes with knowing the intricacies, yknow?

And because I haven't said it yet, thank you my love for these asks, I'm having so much fun!

[spacetimewithstuartgary]

New research shatters long-held beliefs about asteroid Vesta

For decades, scientists believed Vesta, one of the largest objects in our solar system’s asteroid belt, wasn’t just an asteroid. They concluded that Vesta has a crust, mantle and core – fundamental properties of a planet. 

Astronomers studied it for clues to how early planets grew, and what Earth might have looked like in its infancy.

Now, Michigan State University has contributed to research that flips this notion on its head.

A team led by the NASA Jet Propulsion Lab or JPL published a paper in Nature Astronomy revealing Vesta's interior structure is more uniform than previously thought. These findings startled researchers who, until then, assumed Vesta was a protoplanet that never grew to a full planet.

“The lack of a core was very surprising,” said MSU Earth and Environmental Sciences Assistant Professor Seth Jacobson, a co-author on the paper. “It’s a really different way of thinking about Vesta.”

What is Vesta’s true identity? The research team has two hypotheses that need further exploration.

The first possibility is Vesta went through incomplete differentiation, meaning it started the melting process needed to give the asteroid distinct layers, like a core, mantle and crust, but never finished. The second is a theory Jacobson floated at an astronomy conference years ago -- Vesta is a broken chunk off a growing planet in our solar system.

At the conference, Jacobson wanted other researchers to consider the possibility that some meteorites could be debris from collisions that took place during the planet formation era. He included Vesta in his suggestion but hadn’t considered it a real possibility.

“This idea went from a somewhat silly suggestion to a hypothesis that we’re now taking seriously due to this re-analysis of NASA Dawn mission data,” Jacobson said.

More than an asteroid

Most asteroids are made of a very ancient chondritic material, appearing like a cosmic sedimentary gravel. In contrast, Vesta’s surface is covered in volcanic basaltic rocks. Those rocks indicated to scientists that Vesta went through a melting process called planetary differentiation, where the metal sinks to the center and forms a core. 

NASA launched the Dawn spacecraft in 2007 to study Vesta and Ceres, the two largest objects in the asteroid belt. The goal was to better understand how planets were formed.

Dawn spent months from 2011 to 2012 orbiting Vesta, measuring its gravity field and taking high-resolution images to create a very detailed map of its surface. After performing similar tasks at Ceres, the mission finished in 2018, and scientists published findings from the data.

Jacobson said the more that researchers used the data, the better they got at processing it. They found ways to more accurately calibrate measurements that yield an improved picture of Vesta’s makeup. That’s why Ryan Park, a JPL senior research scientist and principal engineer, and his team decided to reprocess Vesta’s measurements. 

"For years, conflicting gravity data from Dawn’s observations of Vesta created puzzles,” Park said. “After nearly a decade of refining our calibration and processing techniques, we achieved remarkable alignment between Dawn’s Deep Space Network radiometric data and onboard imaging data. We were thrilled to confirm the data’s strength in revealing Vesta’s deep interior. Our findings show Vesta’s history is far more complex than previously believed, shaped by unique processes like interrupted planetary differentation and late-stage collisions.”

Planetary scientists can estimate the size of a celestial body’s core by measuring what’s called the moment of inertia. It’s a concept from physics that describes how difficult it is to change the rotation of an object around an axis. Jacobson compared this concept to a figure skater spinning on ice. They change their speed by pulling their arms in to speed up and moving them outward to slow down. Their moment of inertia is changed by the changing position of their arms.

Similarly, an object in space with a larger core is like a ballerina with their arms pulled in. Celestial bodies with a dense core move differently than one with no core at all. Armed with this knowledge, the research team measured the rotation and gravity field of Vesta. The results showed Vesta didn’t behave like an object with a core, challenging prior ideas about how it formed. 

Two hypotheses

Neither hypothesis has been explored enough to rule either out, but both have problems that require more research to explain. While incomplete differentiation is possible, it doesn’t line up with the meteorites researchers have collected over time.

“We’re really confident these meteorites came from Vesta,” Jacobson said. “And these don’t show obvious evidence of incomplete differentiation.”

The alternative explanation is based on the idea that as the terrestrial planets formed, large collisions occurred, mostly growing the planets but also generating impact debris. The ejected materials from those collisions would include rocks resulting from melting, and, like Vesta, they wouldn’t have a core.

Jacobson’s lab was already exploring the consequences of giant impacts during the planet formation era. He’s working with one of his graduate students, Emily Elizondo, on the idea that some asteroids in the asteroid belt are pieces ejected from the growing planets. 

This idea is still far from proven. More models need to be created and fine-tuned to prove that Vesta is an ancient chunk of a forming planet. Scientists can adjust how they study Vesta meteorites to dive deeper into either hypothesis, Jacobson said. They could also do further studies with the new approaches to the Dawn mission data.

This paper is only the beginning of a new direction of study, Jacobson said. It could forever change how scientists look at differentiated worlds.

“No longer is the Vesta meteorite collection a sample of a body in space that failed to make it as a planet,” Jacobson said. “These could be pieces of an ancient planet before it grew to full completion. We just don’t know which planet that is yet.”